


The Revelations Cycle

by Half_Life_Wolf



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-06
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 80,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Life_Wolf/pseuds/Half_Life_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It is time to sleep now, young one, Knight. But do not be afraid— for as this has happened once before, so it will happen again.</i> Today Karl Vates will play a game with ten friends. This is not the first time he has played this game, but hopefully it will be the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Doubtful Dreams of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal and at least nominally written for the kink meme despite not including any occurrences of a sexual nature, this story is currently, in total, over fifty thousand words long and has not hit the halfway point yet. The author is also painfully new to AO3, so apologies for any broken coding, etc. Revelations is not a particularly happy fic, though I'd like to think it isn't incredibly dark, either-- right off the bat there are warnings for character death, attempted suicide, and violence. However, I'd also like to think that it's rather in keeping with the spirit of the comic itself, and we are working our way towards a happy(ish) ending.

_The wheel of time turns ever on, and you must turn with it. Sleep, and enjoy your peace. You will miss it, soon enough._

\---

Your name is Karl Vates, and today is your eighteenth birthday. Nothing special is happening, nothing at all, because nothing ever does. It's early, too early, the sun just barely cresting over the horizon, but there's nothing unusual about that, even if it is a school day; you've been having a difficult time sleeping lately.

 _Not just lately, really. Ever since you were a baby. Your father used to joke that it was because you hated everything so much, you wanted to stay awake so that if the universe did anything objectionable overnight, you'd know about it. Funny man, your father. He'd like to think so, at least. Too bad he's too busy with his mistress and_ their _son to pay you any attention._

You dreamed of _him_ last night, and you can still feel his ghostly fingertips on your skin, if you try. You're not a homosexual, you're sure of it ( _alright, like, ninety percent sure, okay, Solomon? Is that good enough for you, asshole? Get off my back._ ) but every time you wake up with an unknown name on the tip of your tongue and an empty ache in your heart, you wish just a little more that he was real, that he lived somewhere outside of your head. Not because he's stunningly handsome, or anything-- the twisted horns and ash gray skin rather prevent that impression from becoming a thing --but because he knows you, the secret parts of you that you'd never give up to anyone... and he doesn't judge you for it.

The alarm clock is still screaming at you, and you throw a pillow over it, muting its constant wail for attention. Today is your eighteenth birthday, and you cannot come up with a single reason why you should want to drag yourself out of bed to meet the the morning-- blink the sleep out of your eyes, stagger into clothes and out the door, head to school and home again. Every day is the same, and every day is awful, bland and washed out like a half-finished watercolor done by a reckless art student cursed with a muse's wanderlust. Today you are a man, and you are entirely displeased to realize that you have no idea what the fuck that means.

Another pillow is placed over your face, and you consider smothering yourself for only the briefest second; you hate yourself, yes, but not that much, and not nearly as much as you hate the rest of the world. Would you see him then, though, you wonder? In the last seconds, would he come to take you away, grinning with that mouth of teeth like steak knives, gray skin flushed with pleasure at the sight of you?

Would you finally, _finally_ be able to learn his name?

You were so close, last night. You can feel it. You ran down a hall, long and dark and empty, and suddenly you were afraid; you'd never been afraid with him before, but he wasn't there. There was only shadow and nightmare, swirls of paint splashed on the walls like the works of Salvidor Dali's 'murderous fuck' period, your footsteps ringing empty in your ears. You weren't sure why you were running, but it was imperative that you not stop-- your hands were covered by some thick yellow liquid that smelled like blood but didn't look it, half dry and disgusting. The whole place smelled like a charnel house, and you'd longed to find him, to see some indication that things weren't as fucked up as they'd seemed. He'd been there, at last, at the end of the hall, and you called out to him.

 _Hey, fuckass! Who the hell are you? Answer me damn it!  
_  
and other such pleasantries. And he'd replied,

 _It's time to wake up._

What he always said. The only thing he ever said, really.

 _It's time to wake up, Kar--_

 __And then beep, beep, beep, shrill and screaming and nearly rupturing your eardrums.

Your name is Karl Vates, age eighteen, and you could just cry.

\---

You are twenty minutes late to school, but that doesn't matter-- so is the teacher. Your dad is a normal guy, works for an accounting firm, nothing special, so it's not like you can afford some fancy-ass private school like that asshole Eric. Most of your friends, your _real_ friends, anyway (and you have so few of them, it's not hard to keep them in check), are in the same boat. You can count them off as you walk in the room, familiar faces. Kate, who loves fashion, one of the only people who thinks she understands you, whether or not she does. Teri, who you're pretty sure you loved, once. Nell, who is just a little bit too into roleplaying games for girls. Also: you.

Then there's Alice and Solomon, who are pretty much only into each other. It doesn't entirely surprise you to see that they're skipping today-- Sol is too smart for this damn school, the damn hacker ( _you were always jealous of him, for reasons you can't define_ ) --but it does rather irritate you that your best fucking friend can't even show up to wish you a happy birthday.

The mood in the room is unexpectedly gloomy, a pall cast over everything; there are the usual rumblings of whispered conversations, but the register is much lower than usual. Normally, at this point, with no adult supervision the room would be in absolute pandemonium; not so today. Nobody even looks up when you throw yourself down in Solomon's normal seat, off to Nell's left. "Yeah, and a very happy birthday to all of you, too," you grumble, irate, drawing attention to yourself for just a moment; Nell looks askance at you, eyes wide. It occurs to you to notice that there are tears in the corner, and her cheeks are puffy.

"Didn't you hear? Oh, Karl, it's just awful--"

"What?" you demand, voice raised slightly, and now the whole room is looking at you, a reverent hush over the crowd, like witnesses at the scene of impending unimaginable carnage. "The fuck happened, anyway? You're acting like somebody died."

The silence continues, and the bottom drops out of your stomach as Nell gives a small sniff, obviously troubled. "We heard just a little while ago," Teri explains, sounding both annoyed and embarrassed on your behalf. "There was... an incident on the 51 crosstown this morning." She takes a deep breath and just says it, the words coming out in a quick jumble, like she's pulling off a scab; the faster it's over, the better. "Alice was stabbed in the chest. They're not sure she's going to make it."

Just like that, your heart stops, mouth dry, and the teacher steps in, slamming the door behind him like this is a normal day, and nothing amazingly terrible just happened. And for some reason, all you can think is, _all this has happened before, and all this will happen again._

\---

It is dark by the time you can manage to drag your bike out of storage in the garage and peddle yourself down to the general hospital. They won't let you in, of course not, but you wander through the halls as long as you can, to the empty cafeteria and past the gift shop filled with stuffed rabbits and puppies in disgusting plaid, their soulless eyes glaring out at you in condemnation, looking for Solomon. You find him at last, on the street just outside the emergency room, watching the ambulances scream past ( _goddamn it, Sol, I was literally just in here twenty minutes, why do you make everything so fucking difficult?)_ and his eyes are like the rabbit's behind his glasses.

Your first impulse is to think, _He's not Solomon anymore_. But if that's true, then who is he? He's a boy whose girlfriend is very close to death now, dancing on the edge of a knife, and he has every right to look like that, mouth twisted into an ugly line, sparks of fire raging in his eyes. For the barest second, they seem to glow.

"Go home," he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours; you have to look away, lest the force of that gaze burn you.

"How is she?" you ask, even though you know, choosing to ignore the roughness of his tone.

"She'll live," he tells you, and then laughs, sudden and crazed, unnaturally high-pitched, adding, "this time, anyway."

You have no idea what the fuck that's supposed to mean, but you do notice that one of his arms is in a sling, swaddled in enough gauze to hang a small horse. "...How are _you?_ " you ask instead of what you want to, which is _have you taken your meds today?_ because that's always a topical question with Solomon and never a tactful thing to bring up.

And instead of answering with something other than a non sequitor, he asks in turn, "Have you ever wanted to start over, Karl?" he looks over at you, eyes darting, and then back up at the stars, a sudden breeze playing through his hair. "Start everything over? This world is diseased. Maybe it's time to burn it."

A chill runs down your spine at those words, and you almost laugh, nervously. "The fuck's that supposed to mean, Carter?"

"Someone tried to kill her today, Karl," Solomon says, ostensibly to you-- but he acts as though he's playing to an audience, speaking to the sky. "I'm tired of this. We can do better. _I_ can do better." And then, proving that there is no statement so crazy that it cannot be topped with a little bit of black humor or poor timing, Solomon rifles through his coat pockets, drawing out a package that he presses into your unresisting hands. "This is for you, by the way. Happy birthday." You look at him incredulously, and he raises an eyebrow in your general direction, switching from enraged to amused so fast that you're getting second-hand whiplash. "What, you thought I forgot? I finished it last night, before... all of this."

Hands shaking, you rip off the plain brown paper, revealing a disk, shiny and new, with "SBURB" written on the front in black sharpie. "...You coded this yourself?" you ask, not really surprised by that, either. "What is it?"

"It's a game. _The_ game. And we're all going to play it together, so you can't touch it just yet." He sounds pained, and you can understand why; he doesn't want to play without Alice. Of course not. But maybe... maybe if you just started it up... he'll never need to know. You can figure out the basic mechanics on your own and be awesome at it when the time comes, blow everyone else away. Maybe you can pour all your energies into this, find some purpose in your useless husk of a life.

Maybe you can become who you were meant to be, your mind whispers, a seductive hiss in the dark corners of your deepest thoughts. Maybe, maybe.

The two of you watch the stars for awhile, cars and trucks and travelers on foot rushing past, the mechanics of the world turning steadily around you. Life, you must remember, goes on, even when for some it does not. The trick is to learn how to keep going, in the moments where there is nothing left to keep going _for._ "Want a ride home?" you ask at last, thinking of the twenty dollars in birthday money your Nana sent you, currently burning a hole in your pocket. "We can call a cab, if you want."

"Save your money," Solomon tells you, turning back towards the building, hands shoved in his pocket. "I'm going to stay a little longer, even if they won't let me in. Just... just a little longer." You watch him go with an inexplicable pain in your chest, and then watch the stars a bit longer, pinpoints of bright light against a wave of black, of nothingness, tiny spots of something in a universe that is so alone, so empty. You think of the darkness in your dreams, in your heart, and you wish you could scream, wish you could cry, but nothing will come. There is nothing left now but to go home. The chain of events that will seal your fate has already been set in motion, though you cannot know that yet. It has already begun.

Your name is Karl Vates, and this is your life.

But not for very much longer.


	2. First Iteration: No Such Winds Blow Hither

Your feet scrabble against the heated, molten ground, pounding fast, furious as tears stain your eyes. He is here, so close, and your heart expands with love and worry, filling the whole of the tainted, cursed world. Two figures stand on the raised dais, flames cascading all around, a halo of fire.

A crucible.

That sounds like one of _her_ vocabulary words, you think, half hysterical, your lungs expanding and contracting as you race towards the finish line, the clock ticking ever down, unable to suck in air fast enough. There is not enough of anything-- not enough time, not enough space. Too much destiny.

 _Tick_ , and the taller of the two, the horned man, raises an arm, fingers splayed and extended. You remember that your skin is like that, gray as the ash of burning bodies, that your nails are sharp and black as daggers.

 _Tick_ , and the other raises his hammer, holding it between them, a shield or a sword. He is shouting something, and you are not close enough yet to hear what. Not close enough. Never close enough. It's always been that way, through untold centuries, innumerable years. So close, never close enough. You could not save him. You could not save yourself. Will it be different, this time?

 _Tick,_ and rainbow light crackles, avenging lightning, striking the platform between the two as the world grumbles and shifts and shakes, threatening to topple and collapse; a shower of pebbles rains down from the ceiling. Above, the battle rages. You should be there, with your friends, fighting the Black Queen, but it's going wrong.

 _Tick,_ and you remember that it always does.

 _Tick_

 _Tick_

 _Tick_

Your heart pounds faster, an erratic, wild drumbeat in your chest, and your eyes bulge, your legs shaking from effort. The first figure is laughing now, head thrown back, sharp sharks teeth like the ones you once bore proudly silhouetted against the corona of fire, and you know, you _know_ , that he will die.

 _Tick,_ and there is nothing you can do.

 _Tick,_ and it will not be different, but no one says you can't try.

 _Ti--_

\---

 _How did we get here?_

 __\---

His name was Karl Vates, and he had just come off the worst birthday in history. The room was dark, lit by a single desk lamp, its bulb halfway to dead, and the ever present, fluorescent glow of the computer screen, seductive, beckoning him closer. The real world was harsh and stupid and _wrong,_ feeling frayed and worn, a faded antique-- but the internet was a welcome retreat, always waiting to envelop him in the warm blanket of a thousand pleasurable distractions. Karl collapsed in the stiff-backed computer chair his father bought him for his last birthday, refusing with typical aplomb to acknowledge the existence of ergonomics, and reverently set aside the package Solomon had slipped him not an hour before. It lay on the desk limply, shafts of thin light glinting of the shiny silver surface, and Karl frowned deeply, shuffling some papers around, covering his present. He wasn't to touch it, he reminded himself. Not for a few more days, at least. Solomon had been quite clear.

But really, what did it matter what Solomon thought? It was his birthday, and his present, and he could use it if he damn well wanted to, honor and tact be damned. He wanted to humor his friend, yes-- at least he'd _remembered_ , if nothing else, and he was certainly having a rough time of it today --but even half covered by notebooks and ignored homework assignments from semesters ago, the disc was alluring, beckoning him closer, drawing him like a magnet. Against the drab backdrop of his life it stood out like a burning brand at midnight, a particularly vexing thing since it was just an ordinary CD, perfectly normal and usual.

Tick, tick, tick, the clock worked merrily away, the sound ringing in his ears along with the electric buzzing of his computer equipment, and Karl's hands were shaking again, only slightly. Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze away from the disk, instead fixing his attentions on the glorious portal before him, fingers settling easily over the keys. Sometimes Karl thought that the only time he could ever be remotely content with life was in moments like this, brief and fleeting, snatched from the cruel jaws of life, these seconds of solitude, nothing but him and the computer and lines of code yet to be written and therefore badly mangled. It was five minutes to midnight, three hundred brief seconds left in this aborted failure of a birthday, and there was plenty to be angry about.

There was, for instance, how powerless he felt in the face of everything that had happened. The 51 crosstown bus was the bus he normally took with Solomon and Alice, when he wasn't sleeping in and running late; he could have been there, if he'd thought of it, maybe could have gotten between her and her would-be murderer. Maybe could have gotten killed himself. There was no way of knowing, now, but that didn't matter-- it would continue to eat him up inside regardless, the guilt tearing at him. _You should have been there, you worthless fucker. You should have done something. Now she's dying and he's hurting and everything is broken, broken, broken._

Now all of him was shaking, minutely, a tremble that started in his chest and worked outward, ripples in a pond, and it was a relief when the adorable little chime dinged, signaling to the world that someone, somewhere, had an utterly inexplicable reason to reach out a hand of friendship to Karl.

\--ghostyTrickster [GT] began trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at 23:56!--

No. No, Karl thought, eye twitching now out of pure rage. No, it couldn't have been. He blocked this idiot. He _blocked him._ Blocked him and changed his screenname, even, specifically to avoid this fuckery. It had worked, too, or seemed to, for a number of months-- so now, of course, he had to show up, the cherry on top of the shit sundae that this birthday had been. Karl seethed, teeth clenched, and contemplated just closing the window, but the bile rising up in his spleen commanded him to give this ridiculous fucker a piece of his mind.

GT: karl, i know what you're going to say, alright?  
GT: just listen to me, okay? this is important.  
AG: OH FUCK. FUCK, NO. JESUS, YOU ARE REALLY THE WORST TROLL EVER, YOU KNOW THAT? LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.  
AG: I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE ENERGY TO TROLL YOU BACK, THAT'S HOW AWFUL YOU ARE.  
AG: THERE WOULDN'T BE A GODDAMN POINT.  
AG: LIKE SCREAMING INTO THE ABYSS AND THE ABYSS SCREAMS BACK AND IT'S _GODDAMN RETARDED._  
GT: karl, please.  
GT: i know i've annoyed you in the past, and i'm sorry, but i had no idea how to reach you otherwise.  
GT: just for four minutes... well, three, now, i need you to listen.  
AG: NO. FUCK THAT. FUCK YOU. I AM CLOSING THIS GODDAMN WINDOW AND GETTING YOU THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE.  
AG: YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU ASSHOLE: I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU WITH THE BURNING, EPIC FIRE OF THE MOLTEN CORES OF A THOUSAND DYING PLANETS.  
AG: I HATE YOU WITH THE NEUROTOXIC VENOM OF THE WORLD'S DEADLIEST SPIDERS.  
AG: I HATE YOU, AND I HATE YOUR FRIENDS, AND I HATE YOUR STUPID SCREENNAME.  
AG: STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY BUSINESS.  
  
There. That should tell him. Pretty good counter-trolling, if Karl did say so himself-- and he did. He was about to close the window when Pesterchum beeped again, and something caught his attention.

GT: karl, i'm very flattered, but we don't have time for blackrom shenanigans right now.  
GT: you've wasted a whole minute, and we need to talk about that game that soll...  
GT: ...shit.  
GT: i think you call him solomon in this timeline?  
GT: yeah. the game he made.  
GT: you're thinking about playing it, aren't you.   
AG: ...NO.

Karl fought off a rising wave of guilt, as sickening as it was inexplicable, and instead concentrated with laser-like focus on the surge of confusion and fear that followed. How the fuck would this dick know about the game? Or Solomon, for that matter? Karl knew for a fact that he had a very strict 'no fraternizing with internet trolls' policy, which was rigorously enforced.

GT: i know when you're lying, karl.  
GT: it took me a few goes, but i think i've got it now.  
GT: and we really don't have time to argue!  
GT: just promise me you won't play it.   
AG: I DON'T OWE YOU SHIT, FUCKASS.  
AG: YOU KNOW WHAT?  
AG: I'M GOING TO DO IT NOW.   
GT: ...do what?  
GT: ...oh _shit._   
AG: JUST FUCKING WATCH ME, MOTHERFUCKER.

Scowling hard enough to give himself a headache, Karl threw the mess of papers to the floor, retrieving the disc from where it lay, shoving it almost roughly into the drive. Tick, tick, tick. Thirty seconds to midnight. The disc whirred in the drive, spinning fast and wild. Twenty seconds, and the computer screen flashed black, a new window popping up. Ten seconds, and the window blinked to life.

Tick, tick, tick, ti--

GT: oh gogdamn it.  
GT: now you've done it.  
GT: karl, i really just can't believe you sometimes.  
GT: i don't know why i'm surprised, honestly.  
GT: i guess i'm not. just...  
GT: disappointed.   
AG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? NOTHING EVEN HAPPENED. IT SAYS I NEED A SERVER PLAYER TO PROCEED, WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS.  
AG: DON'T KNOW WHY I'M SURPRISED EITHER.  
AG: IT'S REALLY JUST LIKE THAT COCKSUCKER TO MAKE ME A GIFT I CAN'T USE WITHOUT HIM.   
GT: ...that's right.  
GT: you don't know.  
GT: man, i feel so dumb...  
GT: of course it didn't work.  
GT: derp. :(   
AG: EITHER YOU ARE GOING TO EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, OR THIS 'CONVERSATION' IS OVER.   
GT: nevermind.  
GT: it doesn't matter for now, i guess.  
GT: good luck, karl. i'll talk to you when you wake up.  
GT: and... try not to die this time, please.

\--ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at 00:02!--

AG: WHAT THE ACTUAL GODDAMN FUCK.

Sighing, Karl ragequit out of Pesterchum, failing to summon the energy required to deal with any of his other contacts. There was nothing he really wanted to say to anyone, anyway, other than that he was sorry-- not that he'd ever tell any of them that. Other than Alice, maybe, provided that she never woke up, which obviously wasn't an optimal outcome in the first place.

The game window was still up, dark and nigh on unusable, and Karl closed out of that, too, suddenly wishing for sleep. Today had been a complete and depressing waste of time; maybe tomorrow would be better.

But probably not.

\---

Saturday, and everything was confirmed for still sucking, as though there'd ever been any chance of otherwise. Karl had woken up to an empty house as usual, no longer frightened by the dark corners and creaking floorboards as he had been as a child. He'd been weak, then, spineless and guileless. Not so now. Now there was nothing he felt so much as hate-- hate and, quite often, apathy.

Lately there'd been something else, too, nagging him, tugging at the corners of his soul, but he couldn't fathom what it was. It didn't happen often, just every now and then for a quick instant, but long enough to tease his mind-- but every once in a while, when the moon hung bright and blue in the sky, Karl would feel a... cut in the universe. The only thing he could compare it to was a record skipping, jumping over a few seconds or, once, a few hours. He was fairly sure it wasn't just him, that he wasn't blacking out, because he always knew exactly what had been skipped over, even if he had no recollection of actually _doing_ it.

Case in point, he could have sworn he'd only woken up five minutes ago, and yet here he was, fully clothed and ready, paused in the middle of pushing open the door to Lucky Steve's cards and games, blinking the confusion out of his eyes. The interior of the shop was dim, the shades drawn over the few windows to keep out all natural light; in here, natural things were banished, frowned upon, taboo. Along one wall ran a network of gaming consoles, from the screamingly new to a few old, clunky arcade machines; at the other end of the store stood a row of vending machines and a few long tables. There was a small crowd around one of the tables, and Karl groaned softly to himself, recognizing all too well his friend's flashy headgear. He and Solomon had been coming here every weekend for the last two years to blow off steam and waste some quarters on Donkey Kong and Space Invaders, but he always managed to forget that it was the local D&D club's day off, too.

He was alone, today, of course, and that only made him vulnerable. Realizing too late that he should have just turned around and gone home, Karl took a step inside, only to be immediately ambushed by a squealing, squeaking cat girl, her wide, happy grin as obviously fake as the pair of ears affixed to her headband. "Karl!" she exclaimed, falsely chipper, coming in to give him a huge, privacy invading hug that Karl returned only lightly, and only because he could hear the strain in her voice. "You're just in time; we're one short today. Won't you play with us?"

She looked up at him expectantly, eyes wide, and Karl swallowed without spit, a lump forming in his throat. _One short._ Of course. Alice was one of theirs; in the club consisting of her, Teri, Timm, Nell, and that creepy asshole Eric, she was easily the only sane one. Karl felt her absence like a missing organ, a dense, sucking hole inside his torso, dragging him down, and not only because he was now consigned to a fate of dealing with Nell and the rest of his 'friends'. Teri was already turned towards them expectantly, scarred eyes hidden behind her typical red coolkid shades. Karl blushed and turned away, affixing his gaze firmly on Nell; sometimes he thought Teri saw too much, despite the obvious limitations of such.

"Maybe next week," he muttered, striding towards the vintage machines, unable to meet Nell's eyes as her face fell, the picture of perfect disappointment.

"But Karl--"

"I don't play games for girls!" he snapped, turning on her viciously, and was instantly horrified with himself, but only on the inside. "Can I just... stay by myself, please? I don't want to talk to anyone today."

"Okay," Nell whispered, nodding. "We all have ways of coping, I guess." Satisfied, she flounced off and Karl dumped four quarters into the nearest machine, which happened to be Asteriods. It would never have mattered. Today wasn't about beating Sol's high score, or seeing who could drink the most Mountain Dew in a minute and a half. Today was about shutting off his brain, and not thinking for a blessed moment.

Which was why he jumped nearly a foot in the air when Teri asked, "What's wrong with you today, anyway?" and he realized that she'd been leaning against the side of his machine for the last five minutes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Karl snarled, hitting the buttons with a frightening degree of vitriol.

"Bullshit. You never snap at Nell like that."

"Sure I do. Autistic catgirl needs to learn to mind her own damn business." Out of the corner of his eye Karl could see that Teri was frowning, skeptical and displeased, and he felt bad; it wasn't true, really. Nell was... irritating sometimes, yeah, but mostly harmless, and surprisingly tolerable for someone two steps and a suit removed from being a furry.

"Look, I know you're upset about Alice. We all are, and we all want to do something about it, but--"

"So the Blind Justice corps are on the job, eh?" Karl asked nastily, trying and failing to keep his anger in check, thinking in the back of his mind, _try not to die this time, please._ What the shit was that supposed to be about? If the troll jerk had been meaning to completely unsettle him, then fuck it all, it was working. "Be sure to tell me the results of your pending investigation."

"You're really an asshole sometimes, you know that?" Teri asked, punching him none-too-lightly in the shoulder before stalking off. "If you think you can turn off your charm, you're welcome to join us. Can't have a good game with only four people."

Karl could have quipped back with a witty retort, he honestly could have, but his phone vibrated, so he chose not to, instead glancing at the number, and summarily scrambling to answer it.

"Sol? What's going on now?"

"You played the damn game, didn't you?"

Karl's heart practically stopped. "The fuck? Why is everyone suddenly psychic."

There was a heavy sigh from the other line. "Goddamn it, Karl."

"...Wait. Was that a bluff? Because--" Karl started to work himself up into a good, solid rage, but was cut off almost instantly by Solomon's gruff voice and then the click of dead air.

"We need to talk, Karl. Meet me at the hospital in half an hour. Come alone."

More ominous words had never been spoken.

\---

 _It is dark, and you run a tired hand through your shaggy shock of wiry black hair, eyes closed behind square-rimmed glasses, watching the stars explode behind lids shot through with a lattice of blood vessels. His words burn there, too, angry and vile, and something deep and warm and residual bubbles up in the pit of your stomach at the thought of his hate. At the same time, it makes you sick, something in your heart torn and bleeding._

 _There are footsteps behind you, and you know the sound; he pads in quiet as a cat, but in the dead silence of the Veil, even the slightest noise is like a drumbeat in your ears. "Hey, coolkid," you say, leaning back in your chair. He has a new name now, as do you, technically-- but to you he'll always be Dave, especially now that you've awoken from your slumber._

 _"Been talking to T," he tells you, voice smooth and noncommittal, and if you so choose, you can look up into his face, as guarded and closed off as ever, single off-center horn belying the universal constant of his inherent irony. "I guess you failed, huh?"_

 _"Yeah," you sigh, glasses slipping down the sharp slant of your nose. He hovers there, a shadow, an avenging angel by your right hand shoulder, stiff and straight, tensed for the blow. "I couldn't wake him up in time. It's all going to happen again, isn't it?"_

 _"Maybe. You never know." Now you do look up at him, unreadable and unflappable as ever behind the shield of his shades._

 _You laugh, mirthlessly. You can't remember ever feeling worse than you do now. Not even death was as hopeless as this, now that the thousand memories of your pain are just that-- memories, faded and nearly forgotten. "You'd think we'd be better at this after all these years, wouldn't you?" Then, because it's always worth asking; "Isn't there anything you can do about this?"_

 _He shakes his head shortly, and you can tell that you've exhausted his patience yet again. That's alright. Years of struggling together as comrades in arms have cemented your feelings; the two of you will always be bros, no matter what else may come. Just as you and_ he _will always be.._. _whatever you are. Or were._

 _"Come on, Egbert, you know there isn't. One of these days you're going to have to stop asking. Even I can't stabilize this mess by myself."_

 _"It was just a thought."_

 _"You can't fight destiny, dude," Dave sighs at last, clapping a clawed hand over your shoulder so hard you almost wince. "I thought we learned that pretty well the first time."_

 _\---_

They were in the park across the street from the hospital's cold, sterile environment, away from the prying eyes and ears of mortal men, sharing an uncomfortable iron park bench. It had been a long, hard winter, and piles of dirty slush snow still languished over bushes and patches of muddy dirt. Solomon had collected him in stony silence, brushing briskly past him and out the door, and here they'd been for half an hour now, staring at choppy waves over slate gray water in the pond.

"We need to talk," Solomon repeated eventually, his voice cutting through the messy haze of Karl's jumbled thoughts, and Karl shrugged, not wanting to look over at him.

"So talk. Nothing's stopping you." Karl knew he should be handling Solomon with care, given everything that had happened, but he couldn't bring himself to be... well, anything but himself.

Silence ruled for another few heartbeats as Solomon closed his eyes, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on his knees. Then, abruptly, he leaned forward, seizing a long, thin stick from the tepid ground, dragging the tip through the dirt in slow, methodical fashion. He did not look up at Karl, or indeed at what he was doing, but swept careful lines in the marshy earth with sure and steady fingers, describing an arc that grew to a circle, and a perfect, unbroken line.

"Time is a circle," he murmured, so soft and low that Karl had to strain to hear over the whispering wind, despite the fact that they were utterly alone in the park at midday on the most awful Saturday in April. "But, at the same time, it is also a line. Each point on the circle is a line, minute in comparison to the whole, infinitely small, but under a microscope it grows large, revealing that within the line there are loops, which take the form of circles. Have you ever seen a spherical spirograph?" Karl shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Solomon went on as though he had not noticed-- and indeed, he may not have. "You will eventually. When you see it, you'll know what I mean. It's the closest representation of what I'm talking about that the human mind can comprehend without breaking into blubbering madness."

"That's just fucking great, Sol," Karl said carefully, wondering if his friend had jumped the gun into the insanity boat himself, but Solomon seemed perfectly lucid-- just a little odd. "I don't see what it has to do with goddamn anything, but... great, yeah. Spirographs. Awesome."

Solomon laughed again, as he had the night before, and again it made Karl's insides curdle in distaste and a primal sort of fear; his blood and bones suddenly wanted nothing more than to be far away from that place, but his heart and mind held still despite the pull of his instincts. "It doesn't matter if you don't understand it yet," he assured Karl in a way that was not actually all that consoling. And then, out of the blue: "She woke up this morning, you know."

Karl exhaled a sigh of relief, breath that he had not known he was holding escaping with a small puff, rising up towards heaven. "Did she? That's great, man. Alice didn't deserve that."

"No," Solomon agreed, his voice suddenly hard, burning gaze fixed on Karl, which was the opposite of where he wanted it to be. "She didn't. But that doesn't matter either. What matters is the game, and that you did a colossally stupid thing."

"So I tried to use my goddamn birthday present," Karl snarled, defensive; he couldn't help it. The only coping mechanism he'd ever known, ever been taught, was to lash out-- anything else was totally beyond his skill set. "So sue me."

"I _did_ ask you not to."

"What's the big deal, anyway? I couldn't even fucking do anything with it!"

"That reminds me," Solomon muttered, dropping his stick and rifling through his book bag, coming up with another package like the one he'd handed over the previous night, tossing it in Karl's direction; Karl scrambled to catch it, shooting Solomon a dirty look that was ignored. "I forgot to give this to you last night. It's important that you hold on to it."

"What is it?" Karl asked, tucking it securely in his coat pocket.

"The server copy of the game. I didn't think you would need it for quite awhile yet, since you're going to be the last to bring someone into the game, but given that you went and plugged in the damn thing, my time line is all shot to hell."

"Yeah, you still haven't told me why that was such a bad idea." Karl was starting to get a sinking feeling about it, though, like he'd really fucked up. He'd felt it as soon as he'd popped the disc in, and then when his patron troll had bitched him out for it, and all day today it had been simmering away in the back of his mind, a quiet feeling of dread that lapped at his conscious thoughts like the tide.

( _All this has happened before, and all this will happen again._ )

"Because it doesn't just affect you," Solomon told him, sounding tired. "You were supposed to go in first on Alice's copy, and then I was going to have someone bring _her_ in-- probably Nell, but it doesn't matter who, as long as you two are the first to go in and I'm the last. Now that you've started, it's imperative that we get you in as soon as possible. It's just good that Alice woke up, or we'd really be, to use your favorite word, fucked."

"You're not seriously thinking of having her play with me _now_ , are you?" Karl asked, incredulous, leaning away from Solomon on the bench in horror as he flipped open his book bag, revealing Alice's laptop.

"It's not as bad as you think, really. To begin with all she needs to do is deploy some equipment and let you get on with it; there wouldn't be time for ridiculous shenanigans even if we were inclined to do them. It'll only take a few minutes and then she can rest. I'm sure _someone_ will pick up the slack from there." Solomon's voice turned unexpectedly bitter, then, his thin eyebrows pulled into a deep furrow.

"That's it," Karl told him, throwing his hands up. "You've gone completely insane from stress. I'm calling the authorities before you hurt yourself."

"Oh, ha ha ha, Kay," Solomon intoned, not at all mirthful, his voice nasty and twisted. "For your information, yes, I did take my damn pills this morning. I'm perfectly fine. It's everything else that's wrong."

"See, it's statements like that that make me worry, though. That is not a thing that normal people say, alright? You sound like you're either nuts or on a bad acid trip." That was actually a good point, really. Maybe Gary had been sharing his various elixirs. Fucking stoner juggalo.

Solomon paid him no mind, as was usual, and stood, shouldering the bag; Karl got the impression that he had nothing left to say to him, and couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not. When he was in this kind of a mood, it was probably best that Solomon and the rest of the world engaged as infrequently as possible. "Look, I don't care why you do it, alright? But you're my best friend, and I've always been there for you, and just this once I need you to be there for me, too. Leave the game running when you go home tonight and wait for Alice to contact you."

Karl stood as well, slouching inward, eyes hooded with deep mistrust. Solomon didn't ambush him with feelings often, but when he did, it was for one of two reasons: one or both of them was in terrible trouble that it might not be possible to get out of, or he was being an extortionist bastard by flinging around emotional blackmail like a hyperactive ten year old at a food fight. "Fine. But I still think you should just let her rest, Sol. It's a fucking goddamn miracle that she's even awake at this point."

"She understands," Solomon told him firmly over his shoulder, beginning the short trek back to the hospital.

"Well, good," Karl muttered, mostly to himself, kicking at the ground. Solomon's footsteps had smeared the lined circle, turning it into a mass of tangled, disconnected threads. "Because I sure as fuck don't."

\---

\--grislyCartoonist [GC] began pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 14:55!--  
GC: NO, S3R1OUSLY THOUGH, WH4T'S THE M4TTER W1TH YOU TOD4Y?  
GC: USU4LLY WH3N SOM3TH1NG B4D H4PP3NS W3 C4N'T G3T YOU TO SHUT UP ABOUT 1T.  
AG: HEY, HOW ABOUT YOU SHUT UP ABOUT THAT? I'M ENTITLED TO WHATEVER GODDAMN COPING METHODS I WANT TO HAVE.  
AG: I DOUBT YOURS ARE ANY BETTER.  
GC: FOR YOUR 1NFORM4T1ON, 1 4M DO1NG V3RY PRODUCT1V3 TH1NGS W1TH MY GR1EF.  
AG: OH FUCK YOU'RE WORKING ON THAT SHITTY COMIC AGAIN AREN'T YOU.  
AG: SWEET GIRL AND HELLA JANE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK IT'S CALLED?  
AG: WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU GET IDEAS FOR THAT SHIT, ANYWAY.  
GC: H3H3H3H3  
GC: C4LL 1T D1V1N3 1NSP1R4T1ON.  
AG: OH, WHAT FUCKING EVER.  
AG: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW YOU'RE OVER THERE COMMUNING WITH SHITTY INTERNET TROLLS AND GETTING HIGH.  
GC: 1 ONLY G3T H1GH ON L1F3, K4RL. YOU KNOW TH1S ABOUT M3.  
AG: SHIT LIKE THIS IS EXACTLY WHY WE BROKE UP, YOU REALIZE.  
GC: NO, W3 BROK3 UP B3C4US3 YOU'R3 SO F4R 1N TH3 CLOS3T TH4T YOU'R3 H4V1NG T34 4ND CRUMP3TS W1TH 4SL4N.  
AG: WHAT? NO.  
AG: YOU ARE WRONG.  
GC: N3LL TOLD M3 4LL 4BOUT YOUR DR34MS, K4RL. TH3R3'S NO US3 H1D1NG FROM M3.  
AG: ...SHIT.  
AG: GODDAMN IT, NELL, I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE.  
GC: TH3R3 4R3 NO S3CR3TS 1N T34M CH4RG3, K4RL.  
GC: NON3.  
GC: NON3 OF TH3 S3CR3TS.  
AG: YEAH, I GET THAT NOW.  
AG: FUCK.  
GC: LOOK, 1T'S NOT L1K3 1T'S A PROBL3M. NO ONE'S JUDG1NG YOU FOR 1T.  
GC: 1'M JUDG1NG YOU FOR OTH3R TH1NGS 1NST34D. >:)  
AG: YEAH, I'M SURE YOU ARE. LOOK, I HAVE TO GO, OKAY? SOMETHING'S COME UP.  
GC: L1K3 WH4T?  
AG: LIKE SOL BEING A CRYPTIC BASTARD WHO CLEARLY DID NOT TAKE HIS MEDS TODAY NO MATTER WHAT HE SAYS.  
GC: 1S TH1S ABOUT TH4T G4M3?  
AG: YEAH. WAIT, YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?  
GC: SUR3. H3 G4V3 M3 4 COPY 4 LONG T1M3 4GO '4S 4 PR3C4UT1ON'.  
AG: AND DID YOU BY ANY CHANCE HAPPEN TO ASK HIM WHAT THE FUCK THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MEAN?  
GC: 1 D1DN'T TH1NK TO, TO B3 HON3ST.  
GC: H3'S 4LW4YS B33N 4 L1TTL3 W31RD, THOUGH.  
GC: 1 KNOW YOU 4ND 4L1C3 LOV3 H1M, BUT...  
AG: UGH, WHATEVER. I'LL TALK TO YOU LATER.

Frowning to himself, Karl closed the chat window and pulled up the game-- SBURB, or whatever it was. Still nothing, not that he'd expected any action. Alice was a smart girl, smart enough to realize that the best thing for her was sleep, and avoiding her crazypants boyfriend as much as possible when he was in such a state.

And then, quite suddenly, the game screen informed him that a server player had been located--

( _You're screaming, he's screaming, and there's so much candy red blood, Jegus, the first time you meet and he's dying, and you can't handle this. You're drowning in it, drowning in everything, and your side is bloody and ragged but you don't even care, if he's dying then you can die with him, everyone else is already gone. Your only regret will be not being able to take down the bastard who did this, the bastard who had the gall to call himself your_ friend.

 _"Kar--"_ )

\--and the world _changes_.

\--apocalypseArisen [AA] began pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 15:00!--

AA: hello karl  
AA: solomon has informed me that it is imperative that we get you into the game and i have to say i agree with him  
AA: i sincerely hope this is a convenient time for you because there will be no other  
AG: YEAH, SURE, FINE. IT'S NOT LIKE I'M DOING ANYTHING ELSE ANYWAY.  
AG: BUT I REALLY THINK YOU SHOULD BE RESTING, ALICE. THIS REALLY ISN'T ALL THAT FUCKING IMPORTANT.  
AA: yes solomon passed on your well wishes  
AA: but let me assure you that this is a thing of the utmost importance  
AG: JESUS. FIRST PEOPLE ARE TELLING ME I CAN'T PLAY THE THING, AND NOW EVERYONE IS TELLING ME I HAVE TO.  
AG: WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL, ANYWAY?  
AG: IT'S JUST SOME SHITTY THING THAT SOL CODED HIMSELF.  
AA: its really very good karl  
AA: youll enjoy it  
AA: for awhile anyway  
AA: at first  
AG: HOW DO YOU KNOW? HAVE YOU PLAYED IT?  
AG: ...WELL NO SHIT YOU'VE PLAYED IT. OF COURSE HE'D LET HIS GIRLFRIEND BETA TEST THE THING.  
AA: oh no  
AA: none of us have played it but him so far  
AA: and i don't think he's played it either really  
AA: wed know if he had  
AG: ALICE I AM TRYING TO BE SUPER NICE ABOUT ALL THIS BECAUSE YOU'RE SICK, BUT WHAT THE FUCK, REALLY.  
AG: I FEEL LIKE EVERYONE KNOWS THINGS THAT THEY AREN'T TELLING ME JUST TO BE SPITEFUL BITCHES.  
AA: i feel that way sometimes too  
AA: or i did  
AA: things have become very clear to me as of late.  
AA: its not everyone though trust me  
AG: ...SO IT'S JUST YOU AND CRAZYPANTS MCGEE OVER THERE.  
AG: THAT'S VERY REASSURING.  
AG: EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE IT TOTALLY ISN'T.  
AA: at this point we dont have time for explanations  
AA: im sorry, but that will have to wait.  
AA: for now i'm going to finish connecting to you and set some things up okay  
AA: im starting to feel a little woozy again  
AG: OH FUCK.  
AG: YEAH, SURE, AA. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT.  
  
And she did. The first thing Karl was aware of was a terrific crunching from the upstairs, followed by a rapidly blooming water stain on the ceiling, dripping tap water like indoor rain. Cursing, Karl stomped off to investigate, finding large holes where his toilet and bathroom wall used to be, the missing bathroom fixture resting in the front yard like a particularly tasteless lawn decoration. Further loud noises from downstairs roused his attention and he rushed to the living room, finding the front wall and most of the furniture removed, replaced with several large and mysterious mechanical devices that seemed very familiar somehow. Karl had the idea that if he wanted to, he could operate any of them, like riding a bicycle after years of walking to any and all destinations.

Irritated and fully disquieted, Karl stomped back upstairs, intending to give Alice a piece of his mind. Gaping holes to the chest were no excuse for destroying his house.

AA: oh fuck  
AA: im sorry karl but this was really the only way   
AG: GREAT. MY DAD'S GOING TO FUCKING KILL ME.  
AG: THAT IS IF THE HOUSE DOESN'T COLLAPSE ON TOP OF ME FIRST.  
AG: I THINK YOU JUST SHOT ITS STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY ALL TO HELL.   
AA: my apologies  
AA: if its any consolation i think im done now  
AA: im really very tired  
AA: solomon says that your friend should be around to help you work through this soon anyway   
AG: GREAT. ONE OF OUR DUMBFUCK FRIENDS IS GOING TO COME JOIN IN THIS DISASTER.  
AG: I AM JUST JUMPING FOR JOY OVER HERE.   
AA: oh no i dont know him  
AA: but you have for a long time even if you dont know it   
AG: WELL THAT'S NOT REMARKABLY OBTUSE OR ANYTHING.  
AG: DAMN IT ALICE HAS SOLOMON BEEN GIVING YOU LESSONS IN HOW TO COMPLETELY PISS OFF EVERYONE WITH INCOMPREHENSIBLE JARGON.   
AA: no i learned this on my own   
AG: FUCKING FANTASTIC.   
AA: see you soon karl  
AA: i hope anyway

\--apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 15:30!--

\---

The first machine loomed at the base of the stairs, and Karl stared it down, wondering if he should touch it. There was a countdown timer on the side ominously displaying the numbers 4:09:23:14, the last two digits clicking down on the beat of each second without fail. The top of the machine's capsule looked as though it would come off, and Karl's hands twitched, longing to; it was almost a relief when his phone vibrated, signaling that someone was pestering him.

The second he checked on who it was, though, he nearly had a heart attack from rage.

GT: hey!   
AG: NO.  
AG: NO, NO, AND NO.   
AG: GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.  
AG: I AM WAITING ON A VERY IMPORTANT MISSIVE AND CANNOT BE BOTHERED WITH YOUR TRIVIAL BULLSHIT.  
AG: I WILL CHANGE MY SCREENNAME AGAIN JUST TO GET AWAY FROM YOU, SO HELP ME.   
GT: aw, don't!  
GT: it won't work, anyway. :)  
GT: you're pretty much stuck with me dude.  
GT: i'm going to help you survive this thing if it kills me.   
AG: WHAT THING? YOU MEAN THE GAME?  
AG: IT'S A GAME, DUMBASS. NOT FUCKING LIFE OR DEATH.   
GT: then why do you want to hear from this mystery person so badly?   
AG: I...  
AG: WHAT?

Karl could admit that he was thrown, just a little bit. When his temper was high, he wasn't hard to push off the edge, and he'd just been shoved-- pretty hard, too.

GT: okay look i know you hate me. i'm used to it by now.  
GT: but i really do just want to help you here, man.  
GT: i know this game inside and out.   
AG: BULLSHIT. MY FRIEND CODED THIS HIMSELF.   
GT: open-source software, dude. it's all the rage.  
GT: anyway, that doesn't matter. we need to get going on this stuff!  
GT: you're going to have it a lot better than me, actually. you've got four whole days to get yourself in.  
GT: not that you'll need it, with my mad skills.   
AG: I THOUGHT I WAS IN ALREADY.   
GT: wellllllll i guess technically you are.  
GT: but we need to go deeper!   
AG: FUCK, FINE. I'LL PLAY ALONG. IS THERE ANY WAY TO FIX MY WALL?   
GT: well, i can't, but your server player might be able to.  
GT: i'm not that magical, dude.   
AG: UGH, WHATEVER. WHAT DO I DO FIRST?   
GT: see that lid on top of the thingy?  
GT: unscrew that sucker.

...Fucking. Unreal. This kid was going to be the death of him, Karl just knew it, but for the time, he decided to play along, unscrewing the lid with some effort. Karl wasn't the strongest kid he knew-- fuck, not even the strongest of his friends --but it was enough, and he managed to manhandle the lid off after some time, to be greeted by the spastic lightshow of a floating, formless monstrosity, taunting him with its awfulness.

AG: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.   
AG: AND AS A FOLLOW-UP, HOW DO I MAKE IT STOP BEING SEIZURE-TASTIC?   
GT: it's your kernelsprite!   
GT: you have to prototype it.   
AG: MEANING WHAT, EXACTLY?   
GT: throw something into it.

Grabbing the nearest object on hand, which happened to be his grandmother's very expensive heirloom china vase, Karl lobbed it in the general direction of the hovering mass, which dodged it neatly; the vase summarily met the wall, and elementary physics compelled it to shatter into a thousand priceless pieces.

GT: ...oops.   
AG: FUCK. I GUESS THAT'S WHAT I GET FOR LISTENING TO TROLLS.  
AG: OKAY, BLOCKING YOU FOREVER NOW.  
AG: BYE BYE!   
GT: no, wait!  
GT: i'm sorry. that one was my bad.  
GT: i forgot to mention that it has to be something either doomed or deceased.   
AG: OH RIGHT BECAUSE THAT MAKES PERFECT SENSE.  
AG: DEFINITELY.   
GT: it kind of does actually!  
GT: when you think about it.   
AG: WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT IT?   
GT: then first of all you are no fun  
GT: but secondly you should go and prototype it already so we can move on to the cool part.  
GT: it looks like your server player got the alchemiter all set up and stuff, so all you have to do is mess around with the totem lathe a little and bam, a one-way ticket to the medium is yours!   
AG: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST SAID.   
GT: one thing at a time, i guess.

Grumbling as he went, Karl stalked into the kitchen, in search of dead things. There was half a ham on the counter, defrosting in preparation for a dinner that would likely never happen now, and Karl hefted it angrily, pouring all his pent-up anger into a powerful throw that launched the ham directly into the center of the flickering mass. To his surprise, it accepted it instantly, solidifying and morphing into the ghostly shade of an amorphous pig, hovering spectrally a few feet away.

AG: I AM UNSURE WHAT EXACTLY THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO ACCOMPLISH, BUT OKAY.   
GT: awesome things, karl.  
GT: you have accomplished awesome things.  
GT: and, more importantly, you are now ready to take the next step!  
GT: you know, i--  
  
Snip   
__

__  
_You are alone. More alone than you've ever been, or ever will be. There are no stars in the sky, no ground beneath your feet, no pulse of energy around you. It is... peaceful._

 _And then the screaming begins.  
_  
Snip _  
_  
Karl blinked, stilling, one hand outreached to pluck a cerulean apple from an artificial tree of the same material. It had happened again, he was sure of it, and this time he had no recollection of what had been skipped over, only that it had probably been something that any observer familiar with SBURB's game mechanics would have found unconscionably dull.

GT: you're going to love this, karl. i promise.  
GT: you'll get to take your anger out on a whole world!  
GT: i know you've always wanted to do that.  
AG: I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS.  
GT: you can trust me!  
AG: NO, I LITERALLY DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE LESS THAN NO IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED.  
GT: oh.  
GT: i guess it's starting, then.  
GT: sorry to hear that, karlkat.  
AG: ...WAIT, WHAT?  
GT: what do you mean, what?  
AG: KARLKAT? THE FUCK?  
GT: i said no such thing.  
AG: YES YOU FUCKING DID, IT'S RIGHT THERE.  
GT: look again?  
  
Karl looked, frustrated and scared, and his heart nearly stopped for about the twentieth time in a two-day period. That was just downright unhealthy.

  
_GT: i guess it's starting, then.  
GT: sorry to hear that._   
  
_  
_   
  
_AG: ...WAIT, WHAT?_   


That was impossible. He knew what he'd read, and yet... and yet it wasn't there anymore. Why wasn't it there anymore? _What the fuck was happening to him?!_

AG: ...OKAY, WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON HERE.  
AG: I KNOW YOU KNOW, ASSHOLE.  
AG: I WANT ANSWERS.   
GT: okay. but you have to do something for me, first.   
AG: FINE. I'D GIVE ANYTHING, AT THIS POINT. WHAT?   
GT: take a bite out of the apple.   
AG: FINE, FUCKASS. HOLD ON.

Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Karl swiftly plucked the apple, ripping it from its bough so hard that the tree shook. Then, with all trepidition burned away by cleansing anger, he took a large bite of the sweet fruit, chewed, and swallowed.

And then everything was darkness and the black void of the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original chapters one and two have been consolidated for archival purposes; no content has been changed from the initial posting.


	3. Second Iteration: Beyond Porch and Portal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author would like to once again apologize for her apparent inability to figure out how the fuck AO3 works. If this thing accidentally gets deleted again, it was only because I cannot figure out this system, it is strange and foreign to me.

_You are alone. Alone in a place whose name you once knew, all sprawling metallic corridors and the tang of dried blood in the air. Yes, you have been here before, and you will be here again-- or possibly not. Quite possibly this is all an illusion, a fever dream. The trouble is that you can never really tell, and this one feels more real than ever. You can feel your heart beating double-time in your chest, and eyes watching you from across the room. Slowly, you turn, aware that you are without a weapon in a strange but familiar place. For some reason, you expect to hear a honk._

 _Instead, you see him. The other one. He doesn't appear often, and you wish he wouldn't at all. Unlike the other man, you never seem to remember him when you wake up, but you sure as hell remember him now, all sharp teeth and nubby little horns, standing in shadows, only his demonic eyes visible._

 _"I love/loathe you," he rasps, voice like the grinding of rusted gears, like bodies being dragged over loose gravel. "You useless fucking sack of shit excuse for a human. Colossal fuck up. Failure. Usurper. They hate you too, you know. How many times have you gotten them killed, now?"_

 _"Shut up!" you shout, trembling with impotent rage. In the low light, you can see the glint of metal, and you know that this will end just as it always does, with him advancing on you-- and then blood, and then nothing._

 _Desperate, panicked, you run, but your feet are as in quicksand. You want to call out for_ him _to save you, and this shadow laughs, toneless and horrible like the baying of hyenas. "Don't you know? He can't help you now, you worthless fucker. We can never cross each other. Not ever again. Guess whose fault that is, too?"_

 _The weapon is raised behind you, cutting through the air with a swish. Tensed, you brace yourself. It will not hurt, not really. It never does.  
_  
\---

Your name is Karl Vates, and you are fourteen years old. It is another winter, just like every other, and another dreary Valentine's Day. It is snowing, you will later recall, and Teri is with you, her mittened hand slipped casually into yours. You stand on the street corner together, watching the traffic stream past, waiting for the light to change, and somehow this seems like an appropriate metaphor for the whole of your life. The world feels worn out, frayed, like a shirt you've worn from birth-- it's time to change it, time to shuck it off, to move on. There is so much else waiting for you.

You will have no recollection of tugging your hand away from Teri's and stepping pointedly out into traffic, staring straight ahead. By all accounts your eyes were dead, glazed, as though looking out over something truly magnificent, and you were smiling-- really _smiling_ \--for the first time since you were a baby. There was no more fear, no more regret, no more despair. When time started again you were being pressed down against the pavement on the other side of the street, Teri sitting on your chest, her not-yet-dead eyes watching you with condemnation.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" she asks, her voice shaking only the tiniest bit, her hands fisted in the front of your shirt. Your head aches from where you'd cracked it against the sidewalk as you fell, and for some reason, the only answer that comes to mind is, _I was testing something._

Instead you lie, because the truth would only frighten her, frighten you, and anyway it is slipping away from you now like sand through your fingers. And you say, "I don't know."

\---

 _Heir, can you hear me? It is nearly time for your awakening. Do not be afraid, my child._

 _You have done all this before._

 __\---

Karl woke up flat on his back in the middle of his ruined living room, the porksprite hovering over him oinking tinnily in an approximation of worry. He felt like he'd just run a marathon, and the back of his neck hurt for no fathomable reason-- tentative exploration with two fingers revealed an expanse of unbroken skin, and there was nothing he could have fallen against as he fell other than the floor. Groaning, he stood, and found himself shrouded in darkness, the only real light emanating from his phone, which was buzzing insistently. Whatever. The stupid troll could just wait for five seconds while Karl located the lightswitch, using the phone's tiny light radius to avoid stubbing his toe on any hulking machinery.

Blinking in the sudden light, Karl looked around, trying to avoid staring out the gaping hole where his wall used to be for the moment. When he did, it only made him confused-- there was nothing but blackness out there, no neighborhood or rows of sad, stupid little houses filled with sad, stupid little people, or green grass, or trees, or... anything other than emptiness and scorched earth, really.

GT: karl?  
GT: i know you're awake, karl, i can see you.  
GT: i bet you're really excited, right!  
GT: or just scared.  
GT: can i tell you a secret? i was too.  
GT: but it's alright, i promise. it's not so scary if we're in it together.  
GT: i wish i could come be there with you, karl, but that's just not possible.   
AG: HEY, SHUT UP A SECOND, OKAY?  
AG: OR, ACTUALLY, DON'T.  
AG: YOU OWE ME SOME ANSWERS, FUCKASS.   
GT: one answer.   
AG: WHAT.   
GT: one favor, one answer.   
AG: OKAY, FUCK YOU FOR THAT.   
GT: hehehehe.  
GT: sorry, mind in the gutter.  
GT: okay, you get one question. use it wisely!   
AG: UGH FINE, LET ME THINK.  
AG: ...ALRIGHT, I GUESS I'D LIKE TO KNOW WHERE THE FUCK I AM, AND WHAT HAPPENED TO EVERYTHING OUTSIDE.   
GT: that's two questions, karl!  
GT: but i'm nice, so i'll answer them both, just this once.

Karl stepped forward, towards the hole, standing on the edge of what was once his house. Now he could see that his house rested on a broad, flat plain that seemed to go on forever, dismal and unbroken save for the occasional hill or stunted tree or deep groove in the earth, the ground charred and blasted looking. Sometimes Karl thought he could see shadows moving, and sometimes he thought he was imagining things, but it remained intensely creepy, regardless.

GT: right now you're in a place called the medium.  
GT: what you're looking at is your land.  
GT: mine is almost always the land of wind and shade, but it can vary.  
GT: with your land, you get a title. that tells you what the game will help you become!  
GT: heir of breath, maid of time, architect of doom, etc.   
GT: there are lots of possibilities.

Karl took another step forward, outside, his foot raising a minuscule cloud of dust that writhed a moment and settled, no wind in the airless place to keep it aloft. It was neither warm nor cold, a state of perfect stasis, and things were illuminated well enough that he could see every detail of the landscape, despite there being no other light source present than that leaking out of his house. No shadows were cast but those that existed already.

And Karl's, of course, that for a brief second rippled, appeared to grow horns. Then he shifted again and it was back to being his familiar companion, an echo of his person.

GT: as for what happened... i assume you meant what happened to your earth?   
AG: NO SHIT, IDIOT.   
GT: well, i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...  
GT: the apocalypse happened.   
AG: WHAT.   
GT: i can't tell exactly what happened from over here.  
GT: it's really weird. this isn't the normal pattern at all.  
GT: usually you get an individual timer, but it looks like everyone in your session had the same deadline to be in the medium by...  
GT: after a certain point there's just... nothing.   
AG: WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT?  
AG: AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS STUFF?   
GT: sigh  
GT: okay i knew we were going to come to this point eventually.  
GT: look, from where i am, i can kind of... see your timeline. most of it, anyway. a lot of it, definitely.  
GT: what makes it weird is that you seem to have been shifted in time a little bit when you came here.  
GT: like... okay, if you tried to pester one of your friends right now, it would still be in linear time for both of you  
GT: but it would be four days ago where your friend is.  
GT: it's like your body jumped forward four days to after the event, but you're still running on the same timeframe.   
GT: kind of like time zones back on earth, i guess.   
AG: I SUDDENLY UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING!   
GT: really?   
AG: OF COURSE NOT, FUCKFACE. NONE OF THAT MADE ANY GODDAMN SENSE.  
AG: CAN WE CUT THIS SCIENCE FICTION B-MOVIE SHIT AND JUST GET SOME STRAIGHT ANSWERS, FOR ONCE?   
GT: i'm trying!  
GT: but it's really hard, dude.  
GT: and for the record, you could stand to suspend your disbelief a little harder.  
GT: you are standing in the middle of a dungeon dimension right now man, come on.  
GT: rules obviously no longer apply.

The shadows were stirring again, and a sudden wind had kicked up, barely covering the chittering noises that seemed to surround him out of nowhere. Karl wasn't paying attention to that nonsense, however, instead focusing on the completely insane idiot who had taken it upon himself to walk Karl through this crappy game.

This crappy, horrible game that had apparently killed everyone.

AG: SO BASICALLY WHAT YOU'RE TELLING ME IS THAT ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD.  
AG: AND IT'S MY FAULT FOR PLAYING THIS CHRIST-DAMNED GAME.  
AG: IS THIS WHY HE DIDN'T WANT ME TO PLAY IT?   
GT: no no no!  
GT: ...i mean, yes, sort of.  
GT: sorry, maybe i didn't explain it all that well.  
GT: your friends are going to be fine.  
GT: probably.  
GT: here, try pestering someone now.   
AG: YOU JUST LITERALLY JUST GOT DONE TELLING ME THAT I'D BE TALKING TO THEM FOUR DAYS AGO.   
GT: oh right...  
GT: well, take my word for it, they'll be fine.  
GT: they almost always are.  
GT: though eleven is really not an ideal number of players.  
GT: the game likes it to be even, see.   
AG: YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE ITS SENTIENT.   
GT: it kind of is, i think.   
AG: OKAY, NOW YOU'RE JUST FUCKING WITH ME.   
GT: hehehe.   
AG: STOP THAT. GIGGLING CREEPILY IS GC'S THING.   
GT: oh, right. i bet you're super worried about her, huh?  
GT: well, don't be!  
GT: her patron troll is probably working on getting her in as we speak.   
AG: I WASN'T, BUT I'M GLAD WE GOT THAT CLEARED UP I GUESS.   
GT: suuuuuuuure you weren't.  
GT: remember, karl, i know aaaaaaaall about you.  
GT: i've been watching you since you were a baby!  
GT: ...shit, i didn't mean that how it sounded.

\-- abysmalGuardian [AG] has blocked ghostyTrickster [GT]! --

Scowling to himself, Karl renewed his resolve to ignore any and all internet trolls in the future. That guy had been marginally useful, though, but way confusing and generally an idiot, and Karl just didn't want anything else to do with him. If he had questions, he could just ask Solomon; the guy created the damn game, he had to know how to work it.

Now that he'd banished the useless little fucker to the realm of cyberspace, though, Karl was rather at a loss for what to do with himself. This was supposed to be a game, but there wasn't much fun or interesting about it, so far-- the desolate landscape provided few opportunities, and the house was a wreck, and he didn't feel like fucking around with the alchemizer or whatever it was at that point in time. Really, all he wanted to do was sleep, and hopefully avoid dreaming for as long as possible.

Karl was in the middle of surveying the landscape hopelessly one last time, wishing to discover that it had transmuted itself into someplace remotely hospitable since the last time he'd checked, when two things happened:

The first was that his phone vibrated hard enough to shake itself halfway out of his pocket.

The second was that the shadows detached themselves from the ground and lunged at him, gaining form and function, their hard black shells molded into the form of shiny carapacean pigs.

\-- timetechGodhead [TG] began trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at ??:??! --

TG: gog i keep forgetting how much of a tool you are in every possible timeline  
TG: seriously bro it is beyond me why egderp even likes you  
TG: not to mention t   
AG: OH MY GOD THEY'RE EVERYWHERE.  
AG: WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK.   
TG: see this is exactly the sort of thing i'm talking about  
TG: you could be safely inside getting mother henned by a guy who thinks troll nic cage is the best actor right now  
TG: but instead you're drowning in a sea of imps  
TG: this would be sad if it wasn't so gogdamned hilarious   
AG: CAN'T TALK PIGS WILL EAT ME.   
TG: okay look  
TG: are you going to calm down and stop being such a whiny little dickbag or am i going to have to come down there myself   
AG: OKAY FIRST OF ALL FUCK OFF  
AG: SECONDLY WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU  
AG: THIRD-- ASDJFKHASFKnnnn1872D;*   
TG: haha   
AG: HEY SHUT UP IT IS HARD TO TYPE WHEN SOULLESS DEMON MONSTERS FROM HELL ARE EATING YOUR ARM OKAY  
AG: I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU DO BETTER   
TG: maybe later bro  
TG: except not because i really dont want to spend any more time talking to you than i have to  
TG: and keep in mind that i literally have all the time  
TG: given the choice of sitting here on my hands forever or trying to count all the grains of sand in the universe or talking to you i would much rather watch paint dry for eternity   
AG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN TALKING TO ME FOR THEN   
TG: just kidding i am totally busy right now  
TG: lots of irons in the fire and shit  
TG: so ill be brief on this  
TG: you need to unblock egbert

By this point, Karl had fought his way back to the house and climbed up the creaking storm drain one-handed, fingers clenched tight around the cold, rusting metal, his heart hammering hard in his chest. It had taken more strength than he'd really possessed to haul himself up, but at least the demonspawn with their immobile trotters couldn't follow him this way. Breathing heavily, Karl sat up and turned his complete attention towards the latest contestant on Who Wants To Be A Deadman.

AG: IF EGBERT IS THE ASSHOLE WHO WAS TRYING TO 'HELP' ME EARLIER, FORGET IT.  
AG: I CAN FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT WITHOUT ASSISTANCE FROM YOU OR YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS.  
TG: dude  
TG: no  
TG: you cant  
TG: do you have any idea how many times ive watched you try this and fail  
TG: because its got to be in the millions by now  
TG: high thousands at least  
TG: and you know what i am sick of it  
TG: i am not letting you fail this session right out of the starting gate again dude  
TG: you are going to unblock egbert and that's final.  
  
\-- abysmalGuardian [AG] has blocked timetechGodhead [TG]! --

There. That should do it. Now Karl could have some peace and quiet to catch his breath and listen to the wind whistle over the plains--

\-- timetechGodhead [TG] began trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at ??:??! --

TG: dude no  
TG: come on  
TG: this is bush league stuff up in here okay   
AG: WHAT THE FUCK.  
AG: HOW DID YOU DO THAT?   
TG: i am a fucking ninja  
TG: an internet ninja  
TG: i reach across time and space and make them my bitch   
AG: THIS WILL JUST KEEP HAPPENING IF I BLOCK YOU AGAIN WON'T IT.   
TG: you know it bro  
TG: like i said i got nothin but time  
TG: i mean im trying to get my game on over here too but i can multitask  
TG: no big  
TG: so bring it douchefag   
AG: YOU KNOW  
AG: IF MY CHOICES ARE BETWEEN YOU AND THE OTHER ONE I GUESS I'LL TAKE THE LESSER OF TWO ANEURYSMS.  
AG: IS THAT HIS NAME? EGBERT?   
TG: good call  
TG: yeah thats his last name  
TG: his first names jawwhn or some fucking thing with too many consonants  
TG: hes a little bitch but what can you do   
AG: I THOUGHT HE WAS YOUR FRIEND?   
TG: yeah well its complicated  
TG: ill tell you when youre older sparky  
TG: but there are four of us over here ill tell you that  
TG: would work out perfectly if i could decide whether were bros or i hate his guts  
TG: protip bro  
TG: go godtier  
TG: would have made everything easier   
AG: OKAY I THINK I'M DONE TALKING TO YOU NOW, IT SOUNDS LIKE THE MONSTERS HAVE LOCATED THE STAIRCASE AND ALSO THIS MAKES EVEN LESS SENSE THAN WHAT EGBERT WAS TALKING ABOUT.  
AG: I REFUSE TO USE HIS FIRST NAME BECAUSE IT'S RETARDED.  
AG: SERIOUSLY WHO THE FUCK NAMES THEIR KID THAT.   
TG: you know what  
TG: i think this incarnation of you might not be completely insufferable  
TG: damn never thought id see the day  
TG: ill let you get back to that i guess   
AG: YEAH FINE WHATEVER. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.   
TG: can do fucko

Karl squeezed his eyes shut tight, running fingers bent to claws through his messy black hair, making it messier still. He hated this, hated everything about it, but there was nothing left to do. He could hear the creatures rattling around downstairs, snorting and grunting, tipping over lamps and rooting through the vegetable crisper, and he had no idea what to do. Solomon would know, but Solomon wasn't online, and Karl didn't want to try contacting Alice again lest he disturb her rest. For all he knew she could be in surgery, or dead.

But don't think about that, he told himself, scrolling through his chumroll. There he was, the fucker, Egbert-- Karl had added him a long time ago for reasons inexplicable even to himself. He'd been lonely at the time, and halfway to a mental breakdown, and he'd hated the fucker, yeah, but he'd been getting trolled by him practically all his life, which made them almost friends. Right now Karl had to admit that he was the best option in a sea of shitty prospects, and he could deal with that. He didn't want to, but he could.

AG: HEY, SO.  
AG: QUICK QUESTION.  
AG: THERE ARE A BUNCH OF PORK MONSTERS TURNING MY HOUSE INTO A STY RIGHT NOW.  
AG: ADVISE?   
GT: karl?!  
GT: oh my gog!  
GT: i didn't think that would actually work.  
GT: then again I guess mister mutantblood coolkid wouldn't have done it if it wasn't going to work...   
AG: UGH LISTEN I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR SHITTY DAYTIME TELEVISION DRAMA HOUR, OKAY?  
AG: ONE OF MY GOOD FRIENDS GOT STABBED, MY BEST FRIEND HAS LOST THE LAST OF HIS MARBLES, I GOT SENT TO A DUNGEON DIMENSION, MY HOUSE IS A WRECK, AND NOW PIGS ARE TRYING TO EAT ME.  
AG: I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON OR, FAILING THAT, WHAT THE FUCK I'M SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT.  
AG: COLOR ME UNINTERESTED ABOUT YOUR PERSONAL LIFE.   
GT: hehehe   
AG: DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO STOP THAT?   
GT: sorry!  
GT: it's just...  
GT: i really missed you, karl.   
AG: OH MY GOD COME ON. IT'S BEEN LIKE HALF AN HOUR, TOPS.   
GT: no, but...  
GT: nevermind.  
GT: okay first of all you need to find a weapon to allocate to your strife specibus.   
AG: SHIT. THAT'S GOING TO REQUIRE GETTING OFF THE ROOF.   
GT: i'd expect so, yeah.   
AG: CAN I JUST... STAY UP HERE, FOR A LITTLE WHILE?  
AG: IT'S REALLY QUIET.  
AG: AND... KIND OF NICE.   
GT: sure. i'll watch out for you.   
AG: YEAH, WHATEVER.

Closing his eyes again, Karl lay back carefully until his back connected with the roof, letting himself settle against the shingles. It was flat and slanted at a low angle, and his feet rested against the gutter, holding himself there and preventing him from sliding down to meet the ground again. Now the sounds from below were fading, like a bad dream, replaced with his own shallow breathing and the steady thump of blood rushing through his ears and the chambers of his rotten heart. This was familiar. This was home.

This was where he needed to be.

At last, Karl turned his eyes towards the sky, and found that it was not as empty as he'd assumed; clouds he had not known were there had parted, revealing patches of slightly darker blackness pockmarked with stars-- and in the center of it all, directly above his head, was the thing that Solomon had drawn.

AG: HEY, FUCKASS. WHAT'S THAT THING ABOVE ME?  
AG: IT'S A SPIROGRAPH, RIGHT?  
GT: oh that?  
GT: yeah, i guess that's the name for the design.  
GT: that's not all it is, though!  
GT: it's the gate.  
AG: GATE? WHERE DOES IT GO?  
GT: to other worlds. to your friends' worlds, when they get in the game.  
GT: don't worry about it just now.  
GT: you can't get there without the help of a server player, anyway.  
AG: THIS SEEMS PRETTY FUCKING SUSPICIOUS, THOUGH.  
AG: WHO THE FUCK WOULD PUT A GATE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GODDAMN SKY?  
AG: THAT'S JUST SHITTY CODING, IS ALL THAT IS.  
AG: I THINK--  
  
And then, with great, groaning aplomb, the roof beneath Karl collapsed.

\---

GT: well, that could have gone better.  
AG: GEE, YOU THINK?  
  
Karl stood in the middle of his ruined living room, broken beams all around and a layer of dust clinging to his clothing, brushing nails and bits of plaster our of his hair. Several of the imps had been crushed, at least, and he'd collected his first grist, managing to avoid the temptation to compare the shape to fruit gushers. Somehow, he hadn't felt that Egbert would appreciate the reference.

Currently, the only undamaged room in the house was his father's study, where he did not wish to go, and the garage-- and poking around the kitchen had revealed nothing but several broken, bent, and twisted knives, totally useless for his purposes. At least there were power tools in the garage, and Karl picked his way through the wreckage carefully, yanking hard on the door to make it push past half a desecrated bookcase so that he could slip through the resulting crack.

It was dark in the garage, darker than it had been outside, and spooky with only the phone's luminescent glow to guide him, and Karl didn't like it one goddamn bit.

AG: ALRIGHT, SO, WHAT DO YOU RECCOMMEND?  
AG: I WAS JUST GOING TO GRAB THE FIRST THING I COULD FIND AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, BUT I GUESS I'M GOING TO DEFER TO YOUR SUPERIOR EXPERIENCE WITH THIS AWFUL BULLSHIT.  
AG: THE WORLD MUST BE ENDING, I KNOW.  
AG: OH, WAIT, IT ALREADY DID.  
GT: it doesn't really matter.  
GT: whatever feels right to you is obviously best!  
GT: i've had a lot of different weapons, but there are a few i keep coming back to that just feel... natural.  
AG: SO WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS THAT THERE IS NO REASON FOR ME TO GIVE A SHIT AND I COULD, IN FACT, EQUIP A RUBBER CHICKEN FOR ALL THE DIFFERENCE IT WOULD MAKE.  
GT: pretty much?  
GT: i don't recommend doing that, though.  
GT: even if it would be hilarious.  
AG: YOU COULD HAVE JUST FUCKING SAID THAT.  
GT: look, i am trying to be the best spirit guide i can be, bro.  
GT: don't blame me because you're impatient.  
AG: FINE. WE ARE LEAVING THIS UP TO FATE.  
  
Irritated again, as though that was unusual, Karl reached out towards his father's tool bench, and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. It was an ordinary hammer, small and weighted in his hand, but it felt good to hold, the shaft warm against his skin. It wasn't the perfect weapon, no, but it was good enough for him, and he allocated it to the proper specibus quickly, wanting to be be out of there and done with it.

Unfortunately, and quite suddenly, there was a loud crack, and half the light source vanished, signaling that someone-- or something --had slammed the garage door behind him, locking it.

Karl, for all intents and purposes, was trapped.

\---

GT: are you scared of the dark, karl?   
AG: WHAT? NO. OF COURSE NOT.  
AG: I'M NOT A BABY.   
GT: it's okay if you are.  
GT: in this situation, i think it's a perfectly reasonable response.

\---

 _Time is a circle, but it is also a line. In another place you stand with head held high, nearly unrecognizable. Wild red eyes, fangs that drip venom, skin the color of a bruised peach; you watch him through the pane of melting glass, slowly flowing, and you are unsure if this is a vision, or a dream, or a nightmare. Its genesis is a mystery, but you see him and your heart stops, stilling in your chest as emotion wells up._

 _Do you love him or hate him? You do not know. You never knew. Everything was so simple when you were thirteen and Alternian and filled with bile and impetus, and now everything is different._

 _"Are you ready?" he asks, and you swallow thickly, hands clenching and unclenching in time with the furious pounding of the water that crashes all around. The shadows are rushing inward, and there is no more time. You must stop him. This cannot be allowed to happen again._

 _"No."_

 _"It doesn't hurt," he assures you then, frowning slightly. His skin is so pale, so pink, those electric blue eyes smiling nervously at you from a thousand miles away. "If you do it right, anyway. It's just like going to sleep. When you wake up, you'll be yourself."_

 _Taking a deep breath you sink down at the knees, sitting and then laying back on the bed of stone. "I'm not scared," you snap, the telltale waver belying your true feelings. You have the memory of this, of course, and a hundred similar besides, but the memory of pain is not pain, and you fear it will be too much._

 _"I'll see you when you wake up," he whispers, softly, and the image fades. Damn him, you think, leaving you to face this alone._

 _But no, that's not true. You're never alone. So long as the two of you exist in the multiverse, you will find a way to see him again. You always have, and you always will._

 _Time is a circle, but it is also a line.  
_  
\---

Two hours locked in the garage had strained Karl's patience to the breaking point and beyond, and Egbert wasn't helping. Twice he'd thrown the phone into the darkness and, cursing, had gone sprawling to find it, realizing too late that without a light source and way to contact the outside world he was even more fucked. His shoulder ached from ramming it desperately against the door, his throat was hoarse from shouting invective at whatever had done this-- probably imps, the mischievous bastards --and he was wasting valuable time. He'd been tempted to block Egbert again, and was now just ignoring him to give himself time to cool off.

How long would the phone's battery last, he wondered dismally, glancing at the little bar at the top of the screen. Two blocks of power left. How much was that? Enough for a day? Beyond that, would it even matter? There had to be a way out of the garage. If Alice could get online... but no, Alice was sick. He shouldn't rely on her, or expect her to come to his rescue. Karl had to face it: he was on his own in a strange place, alone save for Egbert's constant, nagging presence, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sighing, Karl leaned heavily against his father's old station wagon, the metal cool and refreshingly solid against his back. He could still remember lazy summer afternoons spent in the back of that car, drinking flat soda and staring out the window as miles of scenery rushed past, cornfields and tundra, marshes and urban sprawl. That had been a long time ago, though, and the memory was nothing but that, as immaterial and untouchable as his dreams. His father--

No, don't think about that, he told himself firmly, straightening up again. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness poorly, and everything in the garage was a mass of deadly, easily-trip-over-able blobs of blue and gray, but the car was in sharp definition, and it occurred to him to try the door handle; the door came open with a pop and a creak, and Karl nearly shouted in triumph, grinning in the darkness. He didn't know what he'd accomplished, if anything, but as he slid into the soft, wizened leather of the driver's seat, he felt as though everything would be alright. His first impulse was to check the glove compartment for keys, and while opening it produced a landslide of cached materials, it was all owners manuals and maps of places that no longer existed and wouldn't be accessible to Karl if they did.

Karl gripped the steering wheel in both hands to steel himself and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to pretend. He could remember being sixteen and sneaking out with this car, Teri in the passenger seat and Solomon in the back, driving to the beach at midnight. He'd been a piss-poor driver and had sideswiped various mailboxes and trash cans more than once, sending suburban raccoons scattering, but no one had died and they'd come home in the half-light of predawn to find the world swathed in soft pastels, a world of possibilities open before them. Now here he was, two years later, with no more experience at driving than he'd had then, and no more knowledge of life. Everything went nowhere, no matter what he tried. Nothing ever felt right. There was always something... missing.

The phone buzzed again, snapping Karl out of his ponderances, and he was half glad of it and half angry. He would rather be doing something proactive, of course, but what else was there? He was stuck, until Alice showed up or Solomon got on her computer to assist him. Before answering, Karl checked his chumroll; no, neither of them were on. That left him with no other option than to deal with Egbert.

\-- artfulCleopatra [AC] began pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 19:30! --

AC: :3 *a playful kitten bounds up to you, giving you a worried mew of hello!*  
AC: :3 karkitty!   
AG: LOOK, YOU FUCKER, STOP MESSAGING ME EVERY TEN SECONDS. I'M BUSY FREAKING OUT OVER HERE OKAY.  
AG: ...OH. IT'S YOU.  
AG: SORRY ABOUT THAT, NELL.   
AC: :3 no purroblem! still having troll troubles? *ac asks, concerned*   
AG: YEAH, YOU COULD SAY THAT.  
AG: UGH.  
AG: WHAT DO YOU WANT, ANYWAY?   
AC: :( well, geez, do i need a reason to want to talk to my furrend?   
AG: NO, BUT NORMALLY YOU DON'T BOTHER UNLESS YOU'RE TRYING TO ROPE ME INTO YOUR FURFAG ROLEPLAY SHENANIGANS.  
AG: HERE'S A HINT:  
AG: NO.  
AG: NO FOREVER.  
AG: I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY A GAME WITH YOU.  
AG: I AM UP TO MY ASS IN TROUBLE WITH THE GAME I'M CURRENTLY PLAYING, I DON'T NEED MORE OF THIS.   
AC: :3 you're playing a game?  
AC: :3 what is it?   
AG: SOLOMON GAVE IT TO ME FOR MY BIRTHDAY.  
AG: IT'S... UGH.  
AG: YOU KNOW WHAT LET'S NOT EVEN TALK ABOUT THAT. IT'S JUST GOING TO DEPRESS ME.   
AC: :( so you'll play a game with ta but not me?  
AG: FUCK NELL IT'S NOT LIKE THAT.  
AG: I JUST... I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE.  
AG: SPEAKING OF SOLOMON, AND THIS IS NOT AT ALL THE MOST AWKWARD SEGUE EVER, HAVE YOU TALKED TO HIM TODAY?  
AC: :3 no!  
AC: :3 that's actually what i wanted to ask you about, karkitty.  
AC: :3 i've been calling your house all afternoon and no one answers...  
AG: FIRST OF ALL I'VE TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT BECAUSE IT IS NOT EVEN A GOOD NICKNAME AND MAKES NO SENSE  
AG: SECONDLY I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM SOL SINCE HE FLIPPED HIS SHIT AT ME THIS MORNING.  
AG: WHICH REMINDS ME, I THINK HE'S FINALLY LOST IT.  
AC: :3 yeah, we think so too.  
AG: WHY? WHAT'D HE DO TO YOU?  
AC: :3 nothing. but...  
AC: :3 someone checked aa out of the hospital this afternoon.  
AG: WHAT? HOW DOES THAT WORK? SHE JUST GOT STABBED YESTERDAY!  
AC: :3 well maybe checked out isn't the right word.  
AC: :3 what i meant was she just disappeared.  
AC: :3 and she sure didn't get up and walk away on her own!  
AC: :3 gc suspects foul play.  
AG: ...OF COURSE SHE DOES.  
AG: WELL WE CAN REST EASY KNOWING THAT HARRIET THE SPY IS ON THE CASE.  
AG: JESUS.  
AC: :( i think this is important, karl...  
AC: :( our friend is missing!  
AG: ...ACTUALLY YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MAKES COMPLETE SENSE.  
AG: IT'S STILL CRAZY AS FUCK BUT IT MAKES SENSE.  
AG: LOOK, I THINK ALICE IS GOING TO BE OKAY, IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER, AND...  
AG: ...OH, FUCK.  
AC: :3 what?  
AG: NOTHING, I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING.  
AG: LOOK, NELL, I CHANGED MY MIND. I DO WANT TO PLAY A GAME WITH YOU OKAY? AND SOON. AS SOON AS YOU CAN.  
AC: :3 oh, yay!  
AC: :3 i'll start.  
AC: :3 *the mighty huntress stalks her purrey through the forest, slipping silently through shadows in purrsuit of tasty mice*  
AG: OH JESUS. NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT.  
AG: I MEANT I WANT TO PLAY THIS GAME WITH YOU.  
AC: :( i thought you said it was depressing?  
AG: IT'LL BE FUN FOR YOU, OKAY?  
AG: JUST LIKE YOUR DAMN DUNGEONS AND DORKS MEETINGS BUT BETTER.  
AG: YOU GET TO RUN AROUND KILLING MONSTERS AND SHIT.  
AG: YOU'LL HAVE A FUCKING FIELD DAY, I PROMISE.  
AC: :3 really?  
AC: :3 that does sound fun!  
AC: :3 but is it okay with ta if i play?  
AG: YEAH SURE I THINK HE MENTIONED SOMETHING ABOUT GETTING YOU IN ON THIS ANYWAY.  
AC: :3 i don't have a copy of the game, though...  
AG: TERI HAS ONE. GET HER TO BURN YOU A COPY OR SOMETHING.  
AG: LOOK, I DON'T KNOW.  
AG: JUST DO IT.  
AG: I HAVE TO GO, BUT GET BACK TO ME WHEN YOU DO.  
AC: :3 okay!  
AC: :3 i can't wait, karkitty.  
AC: :3 this is going to be so much fun!  
AG: GODDAMN IT YOU'RE STILL DOING IT.  
AC: X3

\-- artfulCleopatra [AC] ceased pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 19:45! --

Well, that was unsettling. From the sound of it, either Solomon had gone even crazier than Karl had previously thought, or Alice had made it in the game, or both. It made sense that he'd want to get her out of there before bringing her into the Medium, though. A whole hospital full of people wouldn't do well in a situation like this, and it was probably for the best that Alice wouldn't have to deal with the confusion. On the other hand, what the fuck was she supposed to do about the imps? The Medium was a harsh place, a game world where everything was clearly out to kill you or at least fuck with your head, and that didn't seem like it would go well with recovery from serious injuries.

At least the conversation with Nell had cleared his head and given him back some of his resolve. Here he'd been sitting around moping like a spoiled little kid, when he should have been doing something to help himself out of this clusterfuck. So Alice couldn't help him and Solomon wasn't answering his messages. So what. Karl would have to be his own knight in shining armor.

Bending down, Karl fumbled for the tangle of wires he knew hung beneath the steering wheel. With little light to guide him it was difficult to root around in the Gordian knot of red and blue and black strands, finding the exposed copper and touching the right pieces together until sparks flew out. It was an old car, still able to be jacked this way, and Karl had done it several times before when he was younger and more sure of these skills than his ability to make off with his father's keys undetected. There were a few tense moments where the engine rumbled like a discontented cat but refused to roll over, and Karl let out a relieved huff of breath when it finally started for sure, the car's unsteady frame shaking with the kick of the engine. Sitting up again, Karl flicked on the headlights, blinking in the sudden wash of illumination, and found the clutch, shifting back into reverse.

GT: karl?  
GT: karl, what are you doing.  
GT: this is not advisable.  
GT: i know you're anxious to get out and explore, but this is really not the best course of action!   
AG: OH DON'T GET YOUR PANTIES IN A WAD, EGBERT.  
AG: I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I'M DOING.

Now or never, Karl thought, and without looking back over his shoulder slammed on the gas. The tires screeched against the cracked concrete floor of the garage, oscillated madly for a few dozen rotations, and then the car was propelled backward by an almost explosive force, leaving the rancid smell of scorched rubber and two long black tracks in its wake. The garage door, which so recently had resisted Karl's advances on foot, now bent outward and broke freel of its moorings as a two-ton hunk of metal plowed into it. The car continued speeding backwards, accelerating in velocity at a rather alarming rate, but Karl didn't care. It wasn't like there was much he could hit, or anyone left to care.

AG: JUST AS PLANNED.   
GT: oh gog...

Grabbing the stick again, Karl shifted into drive and turned the car around, the vehicle screaming in a half-arc that kicked up a monstrous dust cloud. Karl drove right through it and off into space, his house a rapidly shrinking dot in his rearview mirror. Rolling the car window down, he could feel the breeze in his hair, a sweet scent on the air, perfume from the small evergreen freshener dangling over the dash.

GT: this seems like a very poor idea to me, karl!  
GT: also you should not be texting and driving at the same time.   
AG: SO STOP MESSAGING ME, FUCKASS.   
GT: but...  
GT: you can really be impossible sometimes, you know that??   
AG: SEE PREVIOUS COMMENT.

Karl switched on the radio, but got nothing but disconcerting static and white noise, and, in one case, a station that was nothing but the Squiddles theme song on repeat. The landscape was pretty universally bland, but there was some definition, now-- a few more trees, here and there a hill. A few dozen more stars in the sky. They weren't like his back home, but they seemed familiar somehow anyway, like a long-lost pattern he hadn't known he'd known, names of nonexistant constellations and signs flitting across his mind's eye; _Gemini, Aries, Leo. Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn._

 _Cancer._

Here and there an imp popped up, and Karl made sure to mow them down with prejudice, hours of playing Grand Theft Auto with Solomon finally paying off. Who said those games were a bad influence.

GT: well, at least you're racking up the grist.  
GT: when you get back, maybe we can alchemize some stuff!  
GT: that's always a fun, wholesome activity.  
GT: not to mention that you really need to upgrade that hammer if you're going to be exploring.  
GT: it's a dangerous world out there!   
AG: SHIT!

Karl swirved hard to avoid what seemed like a looming black mountain that had sprung up as suddenly as mushrooms after a rain.

AG: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?   
GT: an ogre, probably.  
GT: you should definitely stay away from them for now, especially since you seem to have misplaced your porksprite.  
GT: nice going there, by the way.   
AG: WAS THAT SARCASM?  
AG: I'M AMAZED, EGBERT.  
AG: THIS IS NOT THE TIME, BUT I'M AMAZED.   
GT: yeah well this is just a little frustrating.  
GT: seriously dude you're out there having fun in your car and i'm stuck here by myself.  
GT: it's kind of hilariously awful here.   
AG: IS THAT WHY YOU'RE ALWAYS FUCKING WITH ME?   
GT: kinda.   
AG: JESUS.  
AG: THAT'S JUST SAD.  
AG: WHAT ABOUT THAT TG GUY? ISN'T HE YOUR 'BRO' OR WHATEVER THE FUCK DOUCHEBAG TERM HE USED.   
GT: let's just not even talk about him okay.  
GT: not important now.  
GT: what's important is you watching the road, or lack thereof.   
AG: OH, COME ON, WHAT'S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN. THERE ISN'T A TREE WITHIN FIFTY MILES OF HERE.

And then, probably just to spite him, the car hit a small rock and jumped straight into a heretofore unseen ditch that turned out to, in fact, not be a ditch at all, but some sort of river. Trying not to panic, Karl kicked the door open and jumped out, splashing through the shallows to get to shore as the car rolled deeper, the engine dragging it down as the sound of Squiddles drowned in thick, viscous liquid. The water pulled at his legs, the current lapping, trying to drag him back, and by the time Karl reached shore, his pants were soaked to the knees, his shoes squelching.

GT: ...that.  
GT: in case you were still wondering.

Karl collapsed on the riverbank, a slope so insidious and gentle that he couldn't blame himself for not having noticed it. The river lay like a deep red ribbon over the flat land, and it wasn't until he was tipping congealing liquid out of his shoes and his hands were caked in it that he noticed that it wasn't water at all.

It was blood.

AG: YEAH, I GOT THAT, THANKS.  
AG: JESUS, I FEEL LIKE I'M IN SOME SORT OF CHEAP SHIT HORROR MOVIE.  
AG: THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE, ANYWAY?   
GT: shrug!  
GT: nothing happened exactly, i'd bet. that's just how your land is.  
GT: i think you're in the land of blood and void again.   
AG: OKAY, WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'AGAIN', EXACTLY?  
AG: YOU KEEP SAYING SHIT LIKE THAT, AND IT KEEPS BEING NONSENSICAL.  
AG: I'VE NEVER PLAYED THIS SHITTY GAME BEFORE, TRUST ME.   
GT: oh, yeah, i know.  
GT: this you hasn't, anyway.  
GT: and this me has only played it once, too!  
GT: but... that's for another time.   
AG: FUCK.  
AG: NO, IT ISN'T.  
AG: YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME, GODDAMN IT.   
GT: nope!   
AG: WHY THE FUCK NOT.   
GT: you owe me another favor, first!   
AG: OH MY GOD COULD YOU BE MORE OF A CHILD.  
AG: FINE. WHAT DO YOU WANT.   
GT: hmmm...  
GT: i don't know yet!  
GT: we'll have to wait and see.   
AG: CAN I JUST OWE YOU?   
GT: noooooooo i don't think so.  
GT: look out, by the way.   
AG: WHA--askjdfhaskjdfnabbbbbbbbb8

It wasn't until too late that Karl felt the bony hand close around his now bare foot, claws digging into his ankle, hauling him steadily towards the waiting stream of blood. The hand was pale as death, clammy, skin hanging from bones like rotting flesh; this close, and now that he was paying attention, the river smelled like a butcher shop with a broken freezer, the stink of mortality hanging heavy over everything. With a hoarse shout, he kicked out at the thing, attempting to dislodge it, his free hand grabbing alternately at the appendage and the ground, which offered very little traction.

GT: don't worry, i think that's one of your consorts.  
GT: ...actually no that's probably still a thing to be concerned about.  
GT: man am i ever glad that mine were salamanders.  
  
Throwing the phone aside, Karl flipped over onto his stomach, still scrabbling for purchase against the ground, now submerged up to his hips and gaining. He managed to fight his way out a foot or so, muscles burning in desperation, panting hard. This was worse than the imps, worse than anything he could have imagined.

A nightmare, he thought hysterically. Nothing but. It would be alright. Any minute now this would end and he would wake up to find that it was the first day of his adult life again and Alice hadn't been stabbed and he hadn't just made friends with a crazy internet troll and his life wasn't a complete mess.

And then the singing started.

It was unlike anything Karl had ever heard, high and unearthly and sad. It rocked his soul in ways he hadn't expected, stilling him, calming him, as he was thrust into visions of the past--

 _(Teri's arm around his shoulder, pulling him into her chest as they rested on a park bench in late fall, the leaves falling like rain around them)_

and the future--

 _(Gray skin, torn and bleeding, but what color, what color?)_

and things that had never been--

 _(He holds you close, his stupid dorky glasses pressing against your neck, and you can't care because he's here, he's here, and you're dying anyway, and it's so incredibly stupid that you can't believe it.)_

and things that always were--

 _("Are we still friends?")_

and then water closing over his shouders, up to his neck, his chin...

And release. The singing turned into a sickening scream and a crack like a baseball being hit out of the park; when Karl swam to shore and hauled himself out again, wet and stinking and shivering, he could see the bloodlogged car floating in the air above the surface, the lower, fishy half of the monster spread over the hood. It dropped with a splash in the next second, sending a short tidal wave over towards Karl, but he couldn't care, so stunned was he.

AA: hello again karl  
AA: i see you've been exploring while i was away   
AG: ALICE, THANK GOD.  
AG: WHAT DID YOU DO?   
AA: your consorts are particularly dangerous it seems  
AA: sirens are most unpleasant  
AA: i appear to have been lucky in that respect   
AG: SO YOU'RE IN, THEN?   
AA: yes  
AA: and now that ive done something for you i have a favor to ask   
AG: YEAH, I THINK THAT CAN BE ARRANGED.  
AG: WHAT DO YOU WANT?   
AA: for you to come visit me in lofaf   
AG: THAT'S YOUR LAND, RIGHT?  
AG: OKAY. LET ME GET BACK TO MY HOUSE AND I'LL FIND A WAY UP TO THE PORTAL.  
AG: IS THAT IT?   
AA: no not entirely  
AA: that is only a prerequisite   
AG: WELL, WHAT'S THE REST, THEN.   
AA: if it isnt too much trouble i would like you to kill me


	4. Third Iteration: Nor Wake with Wings in Heaven

GT: so, are you going to do it?   
AG: WHAT DO YOU THINK, FUCKASS?   
GT: i'm thinking no.   
AG: GIVE THE MAN A PRIZE.   
GT: but... why are you going, then?   
AG: THIS PLACE FREAKS ME THE FUCK OUT, FOR ONE. AND I AM NOT EVEN ASHAMED TO ADMIT THAT, BECAUSE I AM LOSING COUNT OF THE NUMBER OF TIMES I'VE ALMOST DIED TODAY.   
GT: that's reasonable.   
AG: AND I WANT TO FIND OUT WHY.  
AG: IF I CAN MANAGE TO KEEP FROM KILLING MYSELF, THEN SHE SURE AS FUCK CAN TOO.

\---

 _When you are thirteen, the two of you become friends. Alice introduced you, actually; you were the punkrocker loner in skater jeans and a bad, emo haircut that flopped over one eye-- he was the gamer loser who sat in the back of every class and still got all A's, spending lunch alone. You had nothing in common other than a shared hatred of the establishment and a lack of discernible social skills, and at first you got along like tomcats, hissing and spitting and jabbing, edging around each other tenderly, not showing the other your back. Alice loves him, though, and Alice has good judgment in most matters (an old soul, Nell calls her teasingly, when she wants to make her blush) so you tried, for her sake, and for the sake of having a friend who isn't crazy, a girl, or on the fast track to burnoutville._

 _It's not a special day. No one's birthday, no holiday, nothing of the sort. What makes it remarkable isn't even the bullies that are currently in the middle of stuffing Solomon into a trash can, or the fact that the teachers are, once again, looking the other way as they stand in a huddle on the edge of the blacktop, hands cupped around their mouths to disguise the smoldering stubs of cigarettes. What makes it worth mentioning is that, for the first time in your short life, you_ snap.

 _"Hey, fuckasses!" you scream, dropping your book bag and advancing on the group. There are three of them, plus Solomon, and they mostly block your view, but when the biggest one shifts you can see his pale face through a gap, mismatched eyes hard and hooded, watching you intently. It doesn't unsettle you; at this point, nothing would. The biggest of the bullies is down with a crack before the other two have the opportunity to advance, and your hand hurts from where it impacted his jaw, but the blood lust has you now, and the only color visible in your spectrum is red._

 _The other two flank you, and soon enough a tangle of legs and arms and flailing bodies is your entire world, brief starbursts of pain exploding periodically behind your eyes. Your knee aches from how you fell, and your hand is smarting, and you're pretty sure that one of them socked you in the nose, because you can taste blood as it runs down over your lips. You're not particularly big or strong-- wiry would be a better word --but you are lithe and agile and filled with hate, and that is as good an advantage as anything else. By the time the teachers finally pry you off your teeth are sunk in the arm of a sullen teenager and you can no longer feel your left leg, which should be a lot more troubling than it is. The assistant vice principal hauls you up and helps you stand, a stern, unforgiving look in his eye; there will be hell to pay, but you do not particularly care. You feel better now than you have in a long time, perhaps ever. For the first time in memory, you feel really alive._

 _As you are dragged off, Solomon calls, "Why did you do it?"_

 _You do not answer-- not in words, at least. But before you are out of his line of sight you hike up the long sleeve of your jacket, revealing an inch-long raised red welt surrounded by a bruise turning from a muscly purple to the grayish green of decay. 'Batteries,' you mouth, turning away once more._

 _The next day, and ever after that, he can be found at your side, you at his, few words spoken or exchanged. Yours is a friendship written into the stars._

 _Into the code of the universe, even._

\---

AG: IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S HARD.  
AG: JUST PUT ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER, YOU'LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY.   
GT: karl...  
GT: oh, jeez, now i'm worried!!   
AG: FUCK, DON'T BE. IF ANYTHING KILLS ME, IT'LL PROBABLY BE ONE OF THESE DAMN IMPS.  
AG: ANYWAY, I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. NOT WITH YOU, AT LEAST.   
GT: why not me? :(  
GT: i'm good at listening, i promise!   
AG: BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING INTERNET TROLL, THAT'S WHY.  
AG: I'D BE POURING MY SOUL OUT AND YOU'D JUST TURN IT AROUND ON ME AND MAKE ME FEEL LIKE SHIT.   
GT: why would i do that?   
AG: THAT'S WHAT ALL OF YOU DO.  
AG: OR WOULD DO.  
AG: IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVE PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.   
GT: i've never been anything but nice to you!  
GT: you can tell me anything, karl.  
GT: i'll tell you something about me, if you want?   
AG: NOT INTERESTED.   
GT: you don't have to tell me anything else for now.  
GT: just that you'll think about it.   
AG: JESUS. ALRIGHT, WHATEVER.  
AG: IT'S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO DO RIGHT NOW.  
AG: OTHER THAN TRY NOT TO FALL INTO ANY MORE CORNSTARCH RIVERS ON THE WAY BACK.   
GT: hehe...  
GT: okay then.  
GT: but you can't laugh!   
AG: NO PROMISES, TROLLFACE.

\---

 _You were always lonely. You remember that, more than anything, being trapped in the cage of your pride and hubris, unable to let yourself out. You hated everyone, fairly indiscriminately, but some people more than others, and if by chance there was someone you loved, you could never find the words._

 _She kisses you on a rainy Tuesday in March, her lips soft and warm against yours, her hands hesitant but sure against your chest as she leans in, feeling wrong and right at the same time. You'd dreamed the night before, and it had been one of the first ones, where everything was intense and you woke up with sweat-soaked sheets, heart pounding in excitement and inexplicable anticipation, but you are most certainly not thinking of a horned man in horn-rim glasses as you kiss her back, slowly at first and then almost roughly. You could never do anything halfway._

 _"I wish I could see you," she whispers against your flushed skin when you surface at length, one hand cupping your cheek, holding you close. You feel claustrophobic, but say nothing; this is but a month after the accident, and everyone is walking on thin ice around her, as if hoping that if everyone pretends to be normal, she'll forget about her blindness and be herself again. It's stupid, you think-- things won't be normal again for a very long time, if ever they are. "I bet you're blushing right now."_

 _"What's it to you?" you ask, grumbling sullenly; you are indeed blushing, but there's no reason to make her aware of that fact._

 _She shrugs, sadly. "Nothing. I bet it's cute, is all."_

("I bet you're cute in person, Kar--")

 _You shake your head slightly to dislodge the sudden fragment of thought that darts across your mind, removing her hand in the process, and she backs off a step, off and away from you. The loss is powerful and wanted at the same time, and you cannot at all figure out what that's supposed to mean. "I'm not cute," you counter, not having to fake offense. "I'm..." a word dances on the tip of your tongue, beginning with 'a'. "...Intense."_

 _Pushing down the growing unease, you proceed to show her how much, and for a long while there is no sound but the angry rain against the window, and your breath._

\---

GT: i guess this is going to be sort of hard to explain.  
GT: but... have you ever felt like something in your life was wrong, and you didn't know what or why?  
GT: it was always like that with me when i was younger. until i met my friends, i always felt empty inside.  
GT: even after that, actually.  
GT: but...  
GT: i had these dreams, now and then, about this boy. we were the same age and stuff, and i felt like i'd known him forever.  
GT: we never spoke or anything except for once, but he made me feel so calm. like everything was going to be okay.  
GT: and i just knew that if i could find him, things would get better.  
GT: well?  
GT: aren't you going to... i don't know. call me a pussy or something?  
AG: NO.  
GT: ...karl?  
GT: are you alright?  
GT: you just kind of... stopped.  
AG: YEAH, FUCKASS. I'M FINE.  
GT: okay.  
GT: because you're, um, really quiet.  
GT: jeez, was that too personal?  
AG: EGBERT, YOU'RE TRYING TO GET ME TO TELL YOU IN LOVING DETAIL ABOUT MY TRIPS DOWN SUICIDE LANE.  
AG: IF ANYTHING THAT'S NOT PERSONAL ENOUGH.  
  
\---

 _Another day, another dollar. Another unit of meaningless time slipped past into the ether, never to be recovered._

 _It doesn't matter, you think. You will do this again, you always do._

 _You raise the bat, and it feels like a hammer in your hand, a sickle. You swing it, and connect, and it is like shattering heads as the ball speeds by above the astonished faces of your classmates. Your teammates, perked up now that you have landed a hit, compel you to run. Instead, you drop the bat and stomp off in disgust. It is not right. Nothing is right._

 _You miss him, more than anything, and the worst part is that you don't even know who the he in that sentence_ is.

\---

GT: well, that's all you're getting, ehe.  
GT: gotta keep some of my secrets!  
GT: i would get my mysterious spirit guide license revoked.   
AG: HEAVEN FORBID YOU NOT BE ALLOWED TO FILL MY TIME WITH INANE SHIT.  
AG: I MIGHT DIE OF LOSS.   
GT: you words, they pierce my very soul!  
GT: but i will struggle on, because i know you don't mean it.   
AG: THE FUCK MAKES YOU SAY THAT, ASSHOLE?   
GT: because you never do.

Karl took a minute to stand and just be still, then, the phone clenched hard enough nearly to snap in one hand. He'd been following the tire tracks he'd left in his wake for what felt like hours now, though time was really hard to judge here, especially since he kept skipping out. The blackouts were getting worse, or at least more frequent-- with no idea what he'd jumped over, there was no real way of telling how severe they were, a few hours or a few minutes. At least it wasn't hard to keep up his end of the conversation with Egbert in such a situation.

He had to admit, he was finding himself hating Egbert less and less as time went on. Talking with him was infuriating, but at least it kept his mind off the shadows that surrounded him and the fear that tugged at his heart every time something groaned or screamed off in the not-far-enough distance. If he had to pick someone to be stranded with, it wouldn't be Egbert, but Alice had gotten offline again before Karl could flat-out refuse her batshit up the belfry request, and now here he was, physically alone in a place that was strange in every sense of the word, scrambling for a foothold on his straggling sanity.

And, for the record, his other friends were not helping.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 21:52! --

TA: hey, k. i see y0u did like i t0ld y0u, f0r 0nce.   
AG: OH JESUS SOLOMON, THANK GOD.  
AG: LOOK I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON WITH YOU TODAY, AND I DON'T CARE.  
AG: NELL WAS TELLING ME SOME SCURRILOUS AND UNDOUBTEDLY FALSE THINGS ABOUT YOU AND ALICE EARLIER BUT WE'RE JUST GOING TO PUT THAT ASIDE OKAY.  
AG: I AM SWEEPING THAT SHIT RIGHT UNDER THE RUG.  
AG: THERE IT IS, UNDER THE FRIENDSHIP RUG, NOT BOTHERING US WHILE WE TALK.  
AG: SO WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS,  
AG: ARE YOU AWARE THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS FUCKING SUICIDAL?   
TA: suicidal?  
TA: what d0 y0u mean?   
AG: I MEAN SHE FUCKING SOLICITED ME FOR ASSISTANCE IN SHUFFLING OFF THIS MORTAL COIL.  
AG: WHAT THE SHIT DID YOU THINK I MEANT?  
AG: "HEY, ALICE IS GOING TO OFF HERSELF."  
AG: DOESN'T GET MUCH MORE CLEAR THAN THAT.   
TA: hmm.  
TA: that is...  
TA: that is m0st distressing.  
TA: where are y0u n0w?   
AG: STILL IN LOBAV OR WHEREVER THE FUCK.  
AG: I'M ON MY WAY TO TRY AND TALK HER OFF THE LEDGE AS WE SPEAK.  
AG: THIS GAME SUCKS SHIT, BY THE WAY.  
AG: I'D FEEL BAD FOR BITCHING ABOUT MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT EXCEPT I GUESS THIS IS THE SAME DAMN THING YOU GAVE TO EVERYONE.  
AG: EXCEPT NELL APPARENTLY.  
AG: YOU'D BETTER BE INCLUDING HER, BY THE WAY.  
AG: IF HER CATGIRL ASS GETS APOCALYPSED BECAUSE I COULDN'T KEEP MY HANDS TO MYSELF I'M GOING TO SCREAM.   
TA: calm d0wn.  
TA: first 0f all, i really d0n't think y0u sh0uld be w0rrying ab0ut alice.  
TA: n0w that she's in the game, she will be perfectly fine.  
TA: it's n0t a thing f0r c0ncern.  
TA: i actually wanted t0 talk t0 y0u ab0ut y0ur tr0ll pr0blem.   
AG: PROBLEM?  
AG: OH, YEAH, GT.  
AG: FORGET IT. GOD KNOWS HE'S BEEN MORE USEFUL THAN YOU, TODAY.  
AG: ...THOUGH I GUESS I CAN'T BLAME YOU. SOUNDS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN BUSY WITH KIDNAPPING HOSPITAL PATIENTS AND OTHER SUCH HIJINKS.   
TA: s0 mel0dramatic.  
TA: anyway, i th0ught that was under the rug?   
AG: SHIT.  
AG: FORGOT.  
AG: YOU GET MY POINT, THOUGH.   
TA: m0re 0r less.  
TA: l00k, i'm really busy right n0w, but i just wanted t0 warn y0u n0t t0 put t00 much st0ck int0 anything he says.  
TA: he kn0ws ab0ut game mechanics, but that's it.  
TA: he's n0t y0ur friend, k.   
AG: YEAH, I KNOW.  
AG: THANKS FOR REMINDING ME, ACTUALLY. I WAS STARTING TO FORGET THAT I HATE HIM.   
TA: heh.  
TA: just d0n't f0rget wh0 y0ur friends are.  
TA: i'll check in 0n y0u again s00n.   
AG: OKAY. I'M STILL GOING TO SEE HOW ALICE IS, THOUGH.  
AG: HAVE FUN WITH... WHATEVER THE FUCK APESHIT BANANAS THING IT IS YOU'RE UP TO.  
AG: AND FOR THE RECORD, I SINCERELY HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING.   
TA: d0n't even w0rry ab0ut that, k.  
TA: that is the 0ne thing that i kn0w exactly.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 22:02! --

 _Snip._

 __When Karl was conscious again, it was to find himself standing outside his house, which was oddly empty and quiet, the imps having exhausted all entertainment possibilities. It was an even larger wreck than he'd left it in, surprising absolutely no one, and the only living thing that appeared to be around was the porksprite, which hovered out to him, snorting in an approximation of concern, its broad, flat nose pressed against his injured ankle. It was a miracle that Karl had managed to walk on it, in actuality; the skin where the wraith had touched was pockmarked and grimy looking even compared to the rest of his body, now caked in dried blood, and the muscle there was swollen like a rotting apple, a knot of pain that flared up and died again as spectral, porcine spit was spread over him, delivered on a wide tongue like mottled flesh.

Revolted, Karl pulled his healed foot away from the beast's maw and picked his way through the wreckage, surveying. The portal still glowed above in all the colors of the rainbow, shining glimmering light down in sharp, stilted rays, but now there was a thin, spindly, twisting staircase whirling up towards it. It didn't look very structurally sound, but then again, it was probably the best option-- Alice wasn't answering chat prompts, and there was no one else who could assist him in reaching it. Egbert could only give middling advice, which he was doing now, happily oblivious to Karl's massive and building irritation.

GT: well, it looks like you can go up now!  
GT: she probably burned through most of your grist doing that, but whatevs.  
GT: just means i can't give you any of my super cool hammer codes yet.  
AG: LIKE FUCK YOU'D GIVE ME ANYTHING FOR FREE, ANYWAY.  
AG: IT WOULD BE ALL  
AG: "KARL, LET'S HAVE A GIRLY SLUMBER PARTY AND TALK ABOUT FEELINGS IN A PILE OF PILLOWS!"  
AG: OR, "KARL, I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK LIKE A LITTLE BITCH BUT I'M NOT ADMITTING IT SO LET'S JUST DANCE AROUND THIS ISSUE FOREVER BY PRETENDING I WANT TO HEAR ALL ABOUT YOUR PERSONAL LIFE!"  
AG: AND YOU KNOW IT.  
GT: okay first of all wow  
GT: secondly where is this coming from  
GT: third, i am totally going to give you a sweet hummer eventually and there is nothing you can do about it.  
AG: ...HOLY SHIT MY THROW-AWAY JOKE WAS RIGHT.  
AG: WELL FUCK.  
AG: HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING TO NELL TOO? BECAUSE I AM NOT A HOMOSEXUAL, GODDAMN IT.  
AG: I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HER SHIPPING CHART, A BRIEF SURVEY OF REALITY WILL TELL YOU THAT I AM STRAIGHT AS THE PROVERBIAL ARROW.  
GT: what?  
GT: okay i'm confused.  
GT: to urbandictionary we go!  
GT: ...oh okay daevid just looked over my shoulder and informed me that i have, and i quote, 'derped so hard that it is about to create a supermassive black hole of suckage from which we shall never escape'  
GT: which i guess means that i'm dumb or something.  
GT: for the record, i meant hammer.  
GT: i am giving you all of the hammers.  
GT: all of them.  
AG: ...YEAH OKAY I TOTALLY BELIEVE YOU.  
AG: COMPLETELY AND ONE HUNDRED PERCENT.  
AG: LET'S JUST MOVE THIS ALONG, OKAY?  
  
Karl shifted a few fallen support beams from where they rested over the alchemiter, pleased to find that it was still relatively intact-- he needed some new clothes, and a better weapon, and just... fuck, anything to distract him from the surrealist painting his life had become recently. The debris sat heavy and thick over the equipment, but with a bit of grunting, groaning effort, he managed to pry all of it free, and stepped back to look over his work.

This turned out to be a mistake, as he learned upon hearing a blood-curdling, eardrum-destroying squeal-- he'd stepped on the tail of the one remaining imp, and it had called for backup. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, and the next thing he knew the remains of the house were shaking, the staircase swaying with the vibration of heavy footsteps. An ogre, large as a mountain, unfolded itself and stepped forward, crushing a mass of furniture under its glossy black trotter. It sniffed once, twice, thrice, and Karl jumped out of the way, but not fast enough; it caught him a glancing blow with one tusk, sending a line of white-hot pain down his side and throwing him through the air. For a moment everything seemed to stop as he flew, as though in suspended animation, and then he hit the wall with a wet thump, his head cracking against an exposed beam. Karl slumped to the floor and lay still, not wanting to explore the awful, wrenching pain in his side and stomach. He felt air against parts of himself that never should have seen the light of day, and a tremor of fear rocked him, sick and old as time.

Karl felt himself rolled on to his back, next, and did not protest save to twitch his grasping fingers in the direction of where he'd dropped his hammer, but he needn't have bothered; it was only the porksprite, packing pink and white coils of exposed viscera back into his body cavity and sealing him up again with its tongue. Karl flipped onto his hands and knees and voided the contents of his stomach before staggering back to his feet, grabbing for his hammer and his phone and dashing behind a more or less intact bookcase to hide.

GT: oh, jegus, karl!  
GT: are you alright??   
AG: OH, YEAH, SURE, I'M JUST DANDY.  
AG: FRESH AS A SPRING ROSE, THAT'S ME.  
AG: NO BUT SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU.   
GT: sorry, i guess i'm not thinking all too clearly...  
GT: but gosh, don't scare me like that!   
AG: YEAH I'M GOING TO TRY NOT TO.  
AG: HEY, EGBERT, DID YOU KNOW THAT HAVING YOUR STOMACH RIPPED OPEN REALLY FUCKING HURTS AND MAY ACTUALLY BE CAUSE FOR A SLIGHT MENTAL BREAKDOWN AND EXISTENTIAL CRISIS?   
GT: i hadn't had the pleasure of learning that before, no.   
AG: WELL, GET EDUCATED.  
AG: BECAUSE IT DOES AND IT IS.   
GT: i'm very sorry to hear that!  
GT: but hey, i have some good news.  
GT: i was dicking around with gg's picturegraph modus while you were walking back, and i came up with some pretty cool stuff that you should be able to afford.   
AG: DO WE REALLY HAVE TIME FOR THIS?   
GT: yeah. the ogre went away.   
AG: OH SHIT, REALLY?   
GT: no.  
GT: just kidding!  
GT: but your sprite has it distracted for the moment.  
GT: trust me, you can't do anything about it without a marginally better hammer, anyway.   
AG: FUCK, WE'D BETTER GET ON THAT, THEN. SEND ME THE CODE.   
GT: okay!   
GT: i drew up some pretty sweet clothes, too.  
GT: i think you'll like them.

Having severe doubts about all of this, Karl punched in the number codes that Egbert provided, starting with the hammer; in the background, desperate and triumphant squeals belied the need for rapid progress. There was a brief flash of light and then the hammer appeared along with an identifying card, the head blue and oddly shaped. It was very... toothy.

The card read, SHARK-HEAD HAMMER. That explained a lot.

The clothes, Karl had to admit, weren't half bad. A plain white shirt and black jeans, with what looked like a tuxedo coat crossed with a bomber jacket to go over, a strange gray symbol that looked suspiciously like the number 69 on the upper right chest. He wouldn't be embarrassed to be caught dead in these, Karl had to admit, and anything was better than going around in bloody clothes for the rest of eternity. For one thing, they were beginning to stiffen up as they dried.

AG: NOT HALF AWFUL, EGBERT.  
AG: I'M GOING TO PUT THESE ON NOW, I GUESS.  
AG: YOU'D BETTER NOT LOOK.   
GT: why would i look?   
AG: JESUS WERE YOU EVEN THERE FOR THAT LAST CONVERSATION?   
GT: oh. ohhhhh.  
GT: ew, no.  
GT: ...uh. not that i don't think you'd be very attractive!  
GT: but i don't want to see anyone without their consent anyway.  
GT: that sounds more like gg's thing to be honest.  
GT: not my bag.   
AG: I'M SIMULTANEOUSLY CREEPED THE FUCK OUT AND FLATTERED, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS.  
AG: JUST KEEP YOUR VIEWPORT TO YOURSELF, OKAY.   
GT: i think i can manage that.

As quickly as he could, Karl shucked off his grungy old clothes and struggled his way into the new ones, wishing that he'd been able to find a pair of clean underwear somewhere, or take a shower, or something. He still felt dirty and awful, but less so, and that was an improvement.

GT: you might want to hurry up.   
AG: I'M GOING, I'M GOING!  
AG: I THINK I'M GOING TO MAKE A RUN FOR THE STAIRS, ACTUALLY.   
GT: good luck! :(

Stowing his phone safely away, new hammer firmly in hand (fuck it was heavy, much worse than the construction tool had been-- how was he supposed to deal with lugging this around for an entire game?), Karl dashed for and mounted the stairs, the flimsy metal clanking under his rushing feet. A minute later, a roar from below alerted him to the fact that his sprite had failed, and he climbed faster, grabbing the railing when the ogre crashed into the staircase and nearly unseated him.

Fuck, there were so many stairs and so little time. How long until the ogre got impatient and tore the whole damn thing down? A hundred steps left, then fifty, then twenty. Karl's legs burned, and his side was hurting again, the thin scar threatening to break open, and he couldn't force air into his lungs fast enough. Ten steps, five, one, and the case shook and rattled and collapsed under his feet. Karl jumped, pushing off, fingertips outstretched, he stared into the face of the spirograph and hung there for an extended moment, everything gone to silence and darkness around him.

 _Time is like a circle, but it is also like a line. Heir, will you awaken?_

And then his fingertips brushed the gate, an electric spark running through his digits to the rest of his body, and the current carried him away.

\---

 _Thump._

There was a real sky here, and stars. Twilight, not all of them out, a moon like a disc of white gold hanging just off to the side, carelessly, as though slapped on as an afterthought. Karl was flat on his back in the dirt, moist, loamy black earth under his fingers, and the smell of mud after a rain was everywhere, fresh and cool and refreshing. Tendrils of fog wreathed him, writhing over him, covering him in a pall, a screen through which he could barely see the sky, and sitting up, he found that it was everywhere, a constant, enveloping blanket.

There were structures here, too. Karl could see no sign of Alice's house, but there were others, small hovels and great castles, abandoned, carved from bone. Piles of skulls, tibias, femurs, all crafted into cunning abodes. Their occupants were coming out, now, shy but curious, and after all he'd gone through, Karl could be neither surprised nor frightened at the sight of small skeletons, heads and teeth pointed like lizards, their eye sockets filled with embers of blue fire. They walked on their hind legs, and Karl thought hysterically-- _dinosaurs. I get death monsters, she gets dinosaurs. Of course._

And then she was there, Alice, gliding through the mist, pastel green hospital gown fluttering behind her, her hair flowing out, eyes glassy, skin pale. He could see how her chest was swathed in bandages, a bit of scarlet seeping through, and thought that it might hurt. "Can't your sprite fix that?" he asked, dumbly, nodding towards what would eventually be a very impressive battle scar, still seated on the ground.

"No," she sighed, voice light and airy and lilting, taking on a tone he'd never heard from her. "Only wounds the game created. This, I cannot help."

Silence reigned as she knelt before him, taking his hand and pulling them both up with some effort, grimacing slightly; feeling badly for it, Karl scrabbled to his feet as rapidly as he could, not wanting to trouble her too much. "I'm not going to do it, you know," he told her, voice as serious as the grave. "You're fucking crazy if you ever thought I would."

She half smiled at him, her eyes sad and lightless, shoulders drooping. "I thought you would say that," she informed him, laying a hand on his forearm and steering him away from his point of entry. The road ran between the buildings, sloping gently downward, though whether they were going into the earth or just down a hill he could not say. "If you will not do it yourself, then I wish you to witness it, and be there for Teri. I'm certain she will be very confused, when she stops frolicking long enough to notice. Not that I can blame her."

"So you're going to kill yourself anyway? Just like that?" Suddenly angry, Karl tugged his hand away, stopping still. "What about Solomon? Alice, you're the last thing keeping him sane. What do you think is going to happen to him if you die? I can't take your place."

"I know," she said softly, "but he will understand. This will work out, Karl, you just need to trust me. I won't be gone for good. Besides, I'm dying already-- I only wish to make it quick, instead of drawn out and painful."

Karl closed his eyes and swallowed a lump, conflicted. "Then do you mean there's a way for you to come back?"

"Yes. If we do this correctly, I shan't be gone long at all."

"Alright, then," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Alright, alright, alright. What do we need to do?"

He could feel her smile from feet away, and somehow, that made it worth it. "First, we must find a bed. I imagine it's fairly self-explanatory from there."

\---

 _Sometimes you like to think about lines. Lines, and geometric shapes. Lines, and geometric shapes, and relationships, between people and concepts._

 _What you know is this: everything. You know that time is both a circle and a line, but because you are better than everyone else you know that it is also neither of those things. You know tha_   
_t certain of your friends are perpendicular to each other, fated always to cross at one point, and one point only. Others are together for a time, two lines running as one, on top of and over each other, mingling, until the day where they must inevitably break apart._

 _There are patterns. Some lines are short, some are long. One is a circle, bending back on itself again and again, a loop stuck in eternal stasis, unbroken. Some swerve and twist, moving but never quite doubling back, a confused squiggle. Some are impossible to relate in spacial terms that anyone sane could understand-- anyone but a Butler, or, perhaps, a Maid._

 _And two of them are parallel._

 _Parallel lines, as you know, may never cross. They may look upon each other from afar, shouting to close the gap, but for nothing in the universe can they be persuaded to come together. In this, the rules are rigid. In anything else, there is leeway. Your lines are parallel, and always have been, but you will never stop trying, because if not for that, then why are you still going, still working? A thousand lifetimes you have lived, each less remarkable than the last, and the only solace you may derive is that you can remember but two of them in detail. That knowledge is not your particular curse to bare, thank whatever gods may be-- the one who does is quite insane, and will bring about the end yet again. It is inevitable._

 _As inevitable, you think, as that moment when he, your fellow, will at last be fulfilled. It is approaching now, fast, a speeding train, ready to hit him and crush him well. You look upon him, his silly, smiling face, and you cannot summon the hate you once felt, know you feel still. Your pale feelings are closer to the surface now, and that is what compels you to ruffle his hair as you stride past, prideful, careful always not to brush his horns by accident. He turns that grin on you, looking up into your eyes, and for a moment you are him, your first self, and everything is heart-breakingly simple. For a moment, you feel a pity more exquisite than anything else, and it is pure and platonic, and you wish you could tell him._

 _You are no longer a Knight, but you will fight for him, that he may keep his happiness and pass along a message. For the briefest of seconds you consider telling him something else, but think better of it, returning to the glowing viewport of your husktop. It is another day, as far as that is quantifiable here, and there is much to do._

 _Parallel lines may never cross, but that will never stop you from trying. If there is any vestige of him left in you, it lives in that knowledge._

\---

\-- timetechGodhead [TG] began trolling grislyCartoonist [GC] at ??:??! --

TG: hey t  
TG: sup   
GC: OH! H3Y, COOLK1D. 1 THOUGHT 1'D LOST YOU FOR 4 M1NUT3 TH3R3.   
TG: oh shit really  
TG: sorry about that man  
TG: ive been dealing with shit over here its all cool  
TG: well no its not what with egbert being a laughably incompetent derp and all but you get my point  
TG: im falling down all these timelines   
GC: H3H3H3H3  
GC: 1T'S OK4Y. YOU 4R3 FORG1V3N.   
TG: well guess i dont have to go kill myself then  
TG: just straight up sacrifice myself at the altar of justice  
TG: begging the irony gods to forgive me for my sins  
TG: ripping out my ironic mutant heart for their amusement   
GC: NO, NON3 OF TH4T!  
GC: YOU ST1LL H4V3 TO H3LP M3, R3M3MB3R? NOT TH4T 1 N33D 1T.  
GC: BUT IT COULD B3 FUN!   
TG: yeah like a root canal  
TG: or a frontal lobotomy  
TG: or foghat   
GC: COM3 ON. 4R3 YOU W1TH M3 OR NOT??   
TG: yeah sure t  
TG: you know i am  
TG: just pulling your leg jegus   
GC: 4LW4YS GOTT4 B3 TH3 COOLK1D.   
TG: i know right i just can't turn it off  
TG: its like a curse   
GC: W3LL 1T'S NOT L1K3 1 M1ND.   
TG: fuck youd better not  
TG: what with all the sick beats and ideas and shit ive given you  
TG: just out of the fucking goodness of my heart   
GC: H3H3H3. D43V1N3 1NSP1R4T1ON!  
GC: OH 1 4M D3F1N1T3LY US1NG TH4T PUN ON K4RL N3XT T1M3 H3 B1TCH3S.  
GC: 1NJOK3S 4R3 B3ST.   
TG: you know it  
TG: by the way i talked to that little fuck awhile ago  
TG: i sincerely don't know why you bother with him man  
TG: or why anyone else does  
TG: egberts over there enraptured right now i can see him  
TG: talking about sucking the guys dick  
TG: no class i swear to gog   
GC: S3R1OUSLY??? WOW.  
GC: 1 M34N 1T'S NOT 3X4CTLY UN3XP3CT3D BUT.  
GC: SOM3BODY'S B33N K33P1NG S3CR3TS!   
TG: oh shit yeah  
TG: and weve established that there arent any secrets on this team  
TG: none  
TG: none of the secrets  
TG: better punish him when he makes it up to losal  
TG: thats where youre going as a heads up  
TG: spoiler warning by the way   
GC: W3LL... M4YB3 _SOM3_ OF TH3 S3CR3TS.  
GC: H3H3H3  
GC: BUT Y34H K4RL H4S 4LL TH3 SH1T COM1NG TO H1M DON'T WORRY.   
TG: seriously  
TG: i am disappointed in you bro  
TG: i am making my most disappointed dad face over here  
TG: it is seriously uncool and you should never make me do it again   
GC: YOU DON'T T3LL M3 3V3RYTH1NG 31TH3R!   
TG: yeah well im your magical fairy godfather okay  
TG: it is my job to be mysterious and dick you around for about five hundred pages and or two hours while spewing mystical bullshit  
TG: i mean have you never been on tvtropes at all or what   
TG: now spill   
GC: OH, LOOK, TH3R3 1S 4 G4M3. SHOULD W3 PL4Y 1T, DO YOU TH1NK?   
TG: oh wow that wasn't awkward or anything  
TG: that was as smooth as the proverbial chinese silk over there  
TG: you could bottle that shit and make a killing in the personal lubricant industry   
GC: >:| DA3V1111111D.   
TG: haha yeah alright   
GC: WH3R3 DO1NG TH1S?   
TG: where making this happen bro  
TG: better go get a hat so you can hold on to it  
TG: its going to be legendary

\---

The Land of Fog and Fossils seemed both larger and smaller than Karl's land had been at once, though part of that was the fact that low visibility made distance difficult to judge. The upshot was that they'd been walking for what felt like hours by this point, in more or less silence, the wind whispering treasonous, sickly things in Karl's ear. Alice was at his side, in those moments when he was not being ambushed by imps that looked like the mutant hellchild offspring of a pig and the Queen's Guard ("Fuck shit! Why do they have guns?!" "I may have prototyped my sprite with a toy soldier." "...That just raises more questions than it answers."), and no one was ever allowed to say that Karl was anything other than a perfect gentleman, because he had offered her his arm immediately and she was leaning on him heavily now as they walked, her small, pale hand resting on his forearm, elbows locked.

Karl would never admit it, but the silence was intimidating, especially when combined with her new demeanor. Alice had always been something else, something different and removed from the rest of them; quiet when Nell was loud, placid when Karl was angry, staid and sane when Teri was anything but. It had never been like this, though. Karl was not two inches from her, her skin nearly against his, close enough that he could hear her breathing and occasionally feel it as her thigh brushed his, and he had never felt so far apart from anyone before. Her hair streamed out behind them, lifted on the wind, and her steps were sweeping, wraithlike.

"It's all wrong," he told her, without knowing why, except that everything was falling down around his ears and here she was, a known quantity, someone he could see and touch and verify was real. Someone he knew for certain wasn't just fucking with him. Alice was his oldest friend even if not his closest, and he trusted her. Maybe more than anyone else. "Isn't it? Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy." He talked quietly, nearly under his breath, wondering if Egbert could hear him, or read his lips; would it matter, if he could? That was wrong, too, that whole situation. Increasingly, Karl was unsure of what he wanted, and what he should want.

"No, you're quite right," she sighed, and Karl was taken by surprise, glancing at her quickly out of the corner of his eye, gaze darting quickly back to the road. The sides of the path were lined with her consorts, curious demons that made chittering, clacking noises, their skeletal claws carving lines in the soft earth. Alice stared straight ahead, too, her voice coming as if from afar, but her fingers tightened over his arm, squeezing reassuringly. "Things have begun to fray and unwind, and that would be normal, but too much time has passed. Everything is pulling apart now."

Karl blinked, swallowed, his mouth dry. "How do you know? Have you... Alice, have you been blacking out, too?"

She shook her head, shallowly, hair moving to the side to expose the white column of her neck in the process. She was so beautiful, so fragile, a falling angel in a damned place, and not for the first time, Karl wondered why she had ever condescended to be with Solomon. Or to be friends with any of them, really. She could have had so much more than to be one of the losers, the cast aside, the downtrodden scum of their high school hierarchy. "It's obvious, really," she said, her eyes drooping closed. "It will get better now, though, at least for awhile, but it won't stay that way."

"Alice, I don't have the time for these games. Can you tell me why the fuck not?" Karl ran his free hand through his hair, a nervous tick, just to have something to do with his pent-up energy that would not unseat her from his person. He wanted to run, to fling himself down streets and up alleys and into piles of bones head first, wanted to skip through rain puddles and take a sledgehammer to the windows of his old house, back when it was intact. Wanted to frolic and cause mayhem, destruction, chaos. This world was chaos, he felt, and not broken enough. Perhaps when Alice was gone, he would tear down everything and start anew.

Or he could move forward. It was something that none of them had been doing much of, recently.

"It has to do with balance and the nature of the game," Alice said, voice high and flighty, and Karl guided her around a corner, still quite unsure of where they were going but secure in the knowledge that she would tell him when they got there. "When the world is unbalanced, it is time for it to end. Equilibrium can never again be reached, and everything must be scrapped, restarted. This is when the game comes into existence, forces its way into the world."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I thought Solomon made this game. Are you saying he channeled some kind of elder god, or something?" Actually, that would have made a surprising amount of sense, given the depth and apparent complexity of this game. And the fact that it seemed to have the power to end worlds.

Alice did not speak for a long while, her breathing growing ragged and uneven, and Karl could not help but worry. Then suddenly her voice was cutting through the still air again, as shocking and powerful as a knife. "Solomon made the game, but he did not create it. He had no other choice, not that I in any way believe he would have chosen differently if he could have. Do you know the purpose of this game, Karl?" Karl shook his head almost violently, mute. "Solomon would tell you that it is to create universes, and that is in part true. But the real reason is to maintain balance. In order for anything to exist in this world or any other, some amount of balance must be maintained."

"Egbert told me that the game likes even numbers of players," Karl put in then, interrupting, wanting to contribute something useful to the conversation. "Is that why?"

"Yes, though I doubt that will be the greatest problem facing our session. The ten of us will balance each other as surely as counterweights on a scale, and as for the last..." she sighed again, deeply, seeming tired. "As for him, he will stand in opposition to himself. He always has, when he was not busy making an enemy of the universes." She broke off into a hacking cough, then, droplets of scarlet blood flecking the damp ground and the pale green of the hospital gown she still wore.

"Hey, are you okay?" Karl asked, finding it acceptable to betray a fraction of his concern given the circumstances. There was blood darkening her hands and the bit of Karl's white shirt cuff that poked out of his sleeve, and she was taking rasping, laborious breaths. "We can stop talking about this, if you need to."

"No," she told him firmly, shaking her head and pulling him forward again. The fog had parted a ways, though it had not lifted, revealing a hill rising before them, the ruin of what looked to be a stone block house crouching on top of it. There were walls knocked down and the whole thing slanted, its right side crumbled, but Karl could make out a rectangle of blackness in the center, a door. The fear burbled up in him again, and unconsciously his free hand moved to touch his side where a line of gnarled white scar tissue was already rising. "No, it's important that you learn this, you out of all of us. I may not see you again for quite some time, and this is the only opportunity we will be afforded, I fear."

"Alright," Karl said, accepting this but not liking it. "But... fuck, just tell me if anything gets worse, okay?"

"Of course." She took another breath, deep and hard enough that it seemed to rattle her ribcage; Karl thought of a death knell and walked a little faster, as fast as he dared. "As I was saying, this game is about restoring balance, and as such there are conditions that must be met in every cycle. If you fail to meet them, then you become part of a dead session, and thus a dead universe. There are correction measures in place to prevent this and reverse it if it happens, but they sometimes fail."

"And then?"

She half-shrugged, movement jerky as she lost coordination. At the base of the hill they paused-- or, rather, she paused them, turning to face him. There was no moonlight, no real light of any sort, but her eyes seemed to shine, glistening with unshed tears; he blinked and that impression was gone, replaced by a wan, wistful smile. "Then you must remember who your true friends are."

"Solomon said that too," Karl told her, attempting to prompt her further up the hill, but she would not budge. A fresh rose of crimson was blossoming over her breast, soaking through the layers of gauze and the thin material of her gown, and her face and hands were white as ivory; he could see a network of blue and purple veins just beneath the skin. Beautiful, he thought. A china doll.

A ghost.

"He is quite right," she assured him, every word soft, escaping on the breeze. "But not in the way he thinks he is. Only you may know who your friends are, Karl."

"But... but you guys are, right?" Karl asked, suddenly uncertain and afraid. There was something about her tone that he didn't like, that worried him in ways he hadn't anticipated. Somewhere, a secret part of himself stirred and grumbled; for a second he thought _yes_ , the word ringing in his mind, echoing off the inside of his empty skull. _Yes,_ and also, _John._ In the next instant it was gone, but the impression lingered, ripples of fear and inexplicable anger rushing out from his shaken center.

Alice nodded shallowly, confirming, and began to lead him up the hill again. "Of course we are. But there are others who are dear to you, and hold you dear to themselves. This is as it should be, and you should never allow yourself to forget it."

"Look, if you're talking about Egbert--"

"I am talking about being true to yourself, Karl," she told him sharply, cutting off his errant thought, "and that you must never let Solomon or anyone else dictate who it is that you love. Ask yourself, Karl-- did you ever feel that there was something missing in your life, and not know why?"

Karl swallowed a knot, and now it was his turn to pause, halfway up the hill. Alice had gone on without him, and, half kneeling, paused in step, he looked up at her. "How did you know?" he whispered, mouth dry, eyes wide.

"Because I felt that way once too, before I found him. Find your missing piece when I am gone, Karl. Find him, and let no one tell you that you must be parted." Her smile wavered, attaining a sweet sort of painful sadness, and she turned away from him to regard the house on the hill, ancient and hallowed, a tomb so much as it was anything else.

"For if you are kept apart again, then the two of you will tear the world apart to find each other."

\---

AA: teri  
AA: if you are so inclined there are two things you may do for me  
AA: for which i will repay you with the information you have requested   
GC: OBV1OUSLY, 4L1C3. 3XTORT1ON 1S NOT N3C3SS4RY.  
GC: ...THOUGH V3RY MUCH 4PPR3C14T3D!  
GC: >:)  
GC: WH4T DO YOU N33D?   
AA: you should do that anyway as it will be to both of your benefits, not exclusively mine   
GC: OK4Y. 1 W4S WOND3R1NG WH4T TO DO W1TH 4LL TH1S GR1ST, 4NYW4Y. 4R3N'T YOU GO1NG TO ALCH3M1Z3 4NYTH1NG? 1T'S FUN!   
AA: the second thing is vital though  
AA: i need you to pass a message through to my counterpart as at this time i lack the skills required to reach him at the time i need  
AA: chronology is not yet as he would say my bitch   
GC: 1 THOUGHT YOU TWO W3R3 FR13NDS.  
GC: DON'T YOU H4V3 H1S H4NDL3?   
AA: and there is really no way for me to clarify just now  
AA: in any case the message is this  
AA: i go to awaken the heir   
GC: TH4T'S 1T? DO3SN'T S33M SO URG3NT.   
AA: i may not speak to you again in a long while  
AA: i may not speak to you again at all  
AA: so allow me to tell you that it has been an honor and a privilege to know you  
AA: you may trust daevid to take care of you in the medium as his partner will for karl  
AA: as for what you wanted to know i think that about sums it up  
AA: but the answer is yes and no   
GC: TH4T 1S TH3 WORST BULLSH1T 4NSW3R 1 H4V3 3V3R H34RD.  
GC: 4LSO, WH4T'S 4LL TH1S NOW? WH3R3 4R3 YOU PL4NN1NG ON GO1NG?   
AA: to wake the heir  
AA: and from there i expect i will find my rest at last  
AA: by the way if you think about it i expect the answer will become perfectly clear to you   
GC: SOM3T1M3S 1 TH1NK YOU'R3 B3TT3R 4T TH1S SP1R1T GU1D3 BULLSH1T TH4N H3 1S.   
AA: please do not be alarmed  
AA: what is coming is only what was always going to come

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased pestering grislyCartoonist [GC] at 22:04! --

\---

The tomb was much bigger on the inside than one would have known to look at it, and eerier still. There was a raised rectangular platform in the center and an arrangement of long-cold brass sconces on the walls, not having tasted the licking touch of flame for long centuries past. On every stone, ever brick in the floor and the wall, there was a symbol, the same one, repeated over and over, save for the slab, a block of pure white marble that if polished would have gleamed, which bore a mark in the shape of a gear.

 _(Time is a wheel that turns ever on, ever on)_

Alice had already lay down by the time Karl had really had a chance to examine his surroundings, and her eyes were closed, her chest moving up and down shallowly, breathing sparse and measured. "I am ready," she informed him, definite and sure. Her hands were folded neatly over her breast, her face utterly peaceful and content. If he had not known better, he would have thought her all but dead already.

"I don't have a good weapon for this," he said, to fill time or to waste it, tossing his hammer nervously from hand to hand. It seemed comical now, a joke weapon, not dignified enough-- and too brutal a death for her, besides.

"It is sufficient," she sighed, beckoning him closer with a twitch of her fingers. "Now, come here. The time has come."

Karl advanced on jerky legs, nearly tripping over his feet, stumbling several times. It was only a few feet between his point of origin and her side, but it seemed to take him a thousand years to reach her, his heart pounding out a static tattoo in his chest. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, raising the hammer with trembling fingers.

"Do not be," she told him, opening her eyes just long enough to grant him another smile. "This has been a good dream, Karl-- and I have you in part to thank for that --but now it is time to wake up. I have enjoyed being Alice; I only wish that he would have enjoyed being Solomon half so well." With that said, she lay back again, and could not be persuaded to react once more. Karl closed his own eyes, as well, seeing darkness thick as ink and nothing beyond, and gripped the handle of the hammer harder, feeling it solid and warm in his fingers.

"Goodbye, Alice."

"Not goodbye, Karl. Just... goodnight."

Karl brought the hammer down.

The sickening crunch that resulted would haunt Karl's nightmares for years, as would the feeling of something giving way beneath the heavy metal of the hammer head. He stayed that way for a long while, trembling, hearing only his own breath, seeing only darkness, until something began to glow before him, visible through closed lids turned pink by the light, like staring into the sun. Unwilling but curious, Karl straightened up and stowed his hammer, opening his eyes.

A ball of fire had coagulated over Alice's still and silent chest, whirling and turning, a seething, mysterious ember that burned like a neutron star. As he watched it grew from the size of a golf ball to a baseball, then a basket ball, and eventually shifted, the surface stirring, unfolding wide wings of flame like molten gold. It further resolved itself into a long neck culminating in a beak like the point of a spear and a voluptuous, streaming tail. "...Alice?" Karl asked it, voice low and rapturous, echoing off stone walls bathed in flickering fire light. The bird gave no indication of recognition, but turned its head towards the unseen sky, wings flared. As it turned and flew from the tomb, the cursed, buried place, Karl was conscious of tears streaming wet and wild down his face, and could not say how they had gotten there.

Shaking and dumb, Karl stepped outside. The fog had lifted, and he could see for miles, over a valley of bones-- the well discovered country. Alice's consorts were nowhere in sight, and that might have been a cause for worry, if Karl had it left in him to feel much of anything. As he did not, he simply watched the firebird rise from the ashes of a wasted life, thinking, _phoenix._ Thinking, _ascend._

\-- grislyCartoonist [GC] began pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 02:15! --

GC: K4RL, WH4T TH3 FUCK D1D YOU DO?   
AG: WHAT SHE ASKED ME TO. I HELPED HER MOVE ON.   
GC: YOU FUCK1NG K1LL3D H3R, K4RL!  
GC: DON'T D3NY 1T, 1 H34RD.  
GC: 1 THOUGHT YOU W3R3 OUR FR13ND.   
AG: JESUS, TERI, SHE WAS DYING. YOU MUST HAVE NOTICED THAT.  
AG: SHE WAS IN PAIN, SHE WANTED IT TO STOP.  
AG: I STOPPED IT.  
AG: TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE DONE!  
AG: I'M NOT A WIZARD, I CAN'T TURN BACK TIME.  
AG: ANYWAY, SHE ASKED ME TO. IT'S NOT LIKE IT WAS UNPROVOKED.   
GC: B3C4US3 SH3 W4S HURT1NG?   
AG: YEAH. SHE'S IN A BETTER PLACE NOW.  
AG: THAT'S NOT A CLICHE, EITHER. I LEGITIMATELY MEAN THAT.   
GC: HOW DO YOU KNOW?   
AG: I DON'T. I JUST DON'T THINK THE GAME WOULD LET ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN TO HER.   
GC: WHY NOT? K4RL, 1T'S A G4M3. 1T DO3SN'T H4VE F33L1NGS.   
AG: IT THINK YOU MIGHT BE WRONG ABOUT THAT.  
AG: BY THE WAY, HAVE YOUR CONSORTS STARTED ATTACKING YOU YET?   
GC: Y3S.  
GC: BUT TH4T'S OK4Y B3C4US3 TH3Y'R3 SOOOOOO COOL!   
AG: OH FUCK REALLY? WHAT DID YOU GET?  
AG: IF IT'S SOMETHING LEGITIMATELY AWESOME I AM GOING TO FLIP MY SHIT AT YOU WHEN I SEE YOU, BY THE WAY.  
AG: I GOT FREAKY SINGING FISH PEOPLE.   
GC: TH3Y'R3 DR4GONS!  
GC: YOU M4Y R3SUM3 3NVY1NG MY SUP3R1ORLY COOL 3X1ST3C3 NOW.   
AG: OH FUCK YOU.   
GC: H3H3H3H3.   
AG: GOD. OKAY, I'M COMING UP NOW.   
GC: OK4Y.  
GC: 1'M SORRY ABOUT ACCUS1NG YOU OF MURD3R1NG 4L1C3.  
GC: 1 KNOW SH3 W4S YOUR FR13ND TOO.   
AG: IS MY FRIEND.  
AG: AND YEAH, OKAY. JUST... TRY NOT TO GET EATEN BEFORE I GET THERE.   
GC: S4M3 TO YOU.  
  
AG: WAIT WHAT

\-- grislyCartoonist [GC] ceased pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 2:25! --

In the last peaceful minute before his retreat from LOFAF Karl stared blankly at his phone, confused but not able to muster the strength for that either, really. He began walking back in the direction of Alice's house and thus the portal to Teri's land of dragons and other such fantasy fairy tale fuckery, clearly visible from his high vantage point...

...and soon broke out into a run, pursued by a horde of screeching, enraged skeleton raptors, their claws extended in his direction.

AG: OH GODDAMN IT NOT AGAIN.


	5. Fourth Iteration: Clothed with Love of Old

_They met in a timeless place, the Butler and the Maid, a place of white, endless planes and no sky below them, no real ground above them. Her robe and hood rippled in a wind unseen and unfelt by him, as whispers filled his ears like waves against the shore of a lake. As he approached, translucent fingers gripped and pulled, tugging lightly and curiously, then released him, uninterested in the ways of the living. "Hey, Aradia," he greeted her, the barest hint of ice slipping into his tone, unbidden. This was a time to be cool in more ways than one._

 _"Hello again, Dave," she said to him, using that name, and oh, how he loathed her sometimes, but how could he be angry? Here he could feel his mind coming apart, unraveling, and the shards of a thousand men's memories drifted around him-- if he so desired, he could reach out and grasp a hundred of them, more, where he had answered to that name and been glad of it._

 _He hated coming here. It always made him feel sick and weird, and now that Aradia was herself, it was only worse._

 _"I'm not him anymore," he reminded her, pinching the bridge of his nose behind his glasses, trying to stave off the headache desperately trying to build and form like a thunderstorm behind his eyes. "We're trying to stick to one timeline, here, remember? You're the one that told me to in the first place."_

 _All she gave him in response was a sigh, heavy and truthful, bearing the weight of the world; she had no time for his shenanigans. But that wasn't true, he told himself as pressure beat against his temples, a band of invisible iron tightening over his forehead. She had all of the time in the world. All of the time in any of the worlds._

 _And, conversely, in this place, there was no time at all._

 _"You are not the David Strider I wished to speak with," she told him, sounding disappointed, her patience wearing thin. She was kinder in this form, a voice whispered to him, tugging at his sleeve and trying to pour itself into his skull through his ear. The presence was like cold oil against his eardrum, slick and sickening. Once she had been, at least. They could be friends. They could--_

 _Daevid Strida was no man's friend, he told himself firmly. He only had use for enemies, and people like Egbert who didn't quite fit into either of those categories. (And T ~~Z~~ , but he wasn't about to dwell on her case just then. Or ever.)_

 _"Yeah, well, tough shit," he grumbled, instinctively feeling for the sword at his side and finding it gone. The damn thing was always buggering off at the most inopportune times, as though it had a mind of its own, which was utterly retarded. "He's not here." The presence pressed a bit harder against the inside of his ear, a foul wind that rocked through his very soul, that somewhere far away made the usurper stars tremble in their ill-gotten sky. Daevid gasped as Aradia grinned, all sharp shark's teeth and lips that were ichor black, only happy mirth where there should have been malicious hatred in her eyes. Daevid hated her, hated her, and the depths of the blackness dragged him down inside of himself, to make way for the other power rising.  He hated her--_

 _And then the world twisted and shifted and stretched and_

\---

Karl remembered nothing of passing through the gate, or of what, if anything, had come before that time. In his mind there was nothing but blackness, pure and gentle as silk, engulfing him and wrapping him up, and a voice like angels telling him to awake, its tones so melodic, so exquisite, that it had been physically painful, and he'd woken with tear tracks drying down flushed cheeks, perversely glad to have landed in his blind friend's domain where no one would be able to see his shame.

He'd been put down on what felt like the top of a hill, and the sun shone above him, so brilliant and bright that it took several seconds of blinking to make his eyes stop feeling like seared meat. There was a breeze, too, a cool spring zephyr that tasted like salt and brine, having most likely originated over some Silurian sea capped with foamy crests. If he concentrated he could hear the steady crashing of sheets of water against beaten rock, a cliff-face, and the infuriated shrieks of slighted seagulls, their wings clipped against updrafts as they circled and dove. Karl didn't need to see these things, he found-- he simply knew that they were, and allowed himself to take a moment of pleasure in the knowing, feeling the wind brush blades of tall grass against his cheek, before sitting up and running a hand through his mussed hair, working out accumulated tangles and burrs.

When he managed at last to look around himself, he was nearly stunned by the beauty. Teri's land looked like nothing so much as the distilled, processed essence of every photograph of Ireland that Karl had ever seen, all rolling waves of emerald green grass over chalk and stone, as though the land were the sea and the sea the land. The sky was endless and blue, wisps of clouds wreathed like cotton, drifting aimlessly. Off to his left the land fell away downward at a perfect right angle, the jagged ledge giving way to a sheer drop and then the ocean, slate gray and restless though the sky was clear, and in various locations between the hills and on top of them strange monoliths rose, sometimes appearing man-made, sometimes a natural growth of whatever rocky outcropping they belonged to, with strange symbols painted on them in white and pale, rusty red. There was no sign of Teri or her consorts, and so Karl warily stood, brushing the dirt off his back and getting a feel for the land. It was solid under his feet and showed no signs of collapsing beneath him, which was favorable. He could live with this, definitely. In many ways, it was good to see light again.

A spark caught the corner of his eye and he paused midway through his first step, foot hovering an inch or so off the ground indecisively as he tipped his head skyward again, tracking the progress of what seemed like nothing so much as a firework burning across the clouds. It left no trail of smoke in its wake, being barely large enough to see, but it was there nonetheless, like an arrow shooting into the distance, where Karl could just see the rainbow glimmer of the gate if he truly tried. He blinked and it was gone save for a residual trail of light scraped across his iris, burning there in spastic alternating purple and teal, and it was forgotten in the next moment as another small dot appeared from the clouds, falling down, down, down towards the sea, glimmering gold as it was struck by the sun's light.

The moment was magical in the best and least silly sense of the word, the sense that it had meant when that word still had connotations of reality, of things eldritch that could be seen and touched and tasted, and Karl savored it as he trotted down the hill and toward the cliff, careful not to fall off. It was at that point, naturally, as he stood alone with awe unfurling like a warm banner in his heart, that his phone beeped, and Karl promptly returned to his usual state of violently cursing everything there was in the world.

GT: karl, i would like it very much if you would stop ignoring me.  
GT: it's not very nice.  
AG: JESUS, EGBERT, WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE ABOUT YOU?  
AG: I JUST WATCHED MY FRIEND DIE AND NOW I'M WAITING FOR TERI TO SHOW UP ON A MAGICAL DRAGON AND TAKE ME AWAY FOR RAINBOW PUPPY SPARKLE ADVENTURES IN NEVERLAND.  
AG: I GUARANTEE WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING IS NOT THIS INTERESTING.  
GT: sorry...  
GT: i guess i didn't realize that it would affect you so much, since you're so tough!  
GT: especially considering that you'll see her again soon.  
AG: YEAH, I KNOW, SHE TOLD ME.  
AG: BUT FUCK, THAT DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT JUST THE TINIEST LITTLE BIT UNSETTLING TO FIND OUT WHAT THE INSIDE OF SOMEONE'S SKULL LOOKS LIKE.  
GT: yeah. sorry about that.  
AG: UGH. JUST... SHUT UP A MINUTE, OKAY?  
AG: OR AT LEAST GET TO THE DAMN POINT. WHAT'D YOU WANT THIS TIME?  
GT: um. nothing, really. just to check in.  
GT: i thought you'd need a friend, but now that you found teri i'm kind of superfluous, huh?  
GT: just like always.  
AG: OKAY I AM GOING TO JUST GLOSS RIGHT OVER ALL YOUR CRYPTIC PSYCHOBABBLE NONSENSE AND SIMPLY NOTE THAT I AM IMPRESSED YOU MANAGED TO ADD BIG-BOY WORDS TO YOUR VOCABULARY SINCE THE LAST TIME WE SPOKE.  
AG: WHAT'D YOU DO, EGBERT, SWALLOW A DICTIONARY?  
GT: ...hehehe. no.  
GT: i'm going to miss you, karl. even if you do insult me a lot.  
AG: WAIT, WHAT.  
AG: DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE GOING TO SELF-TERMINATE TOO.  
AG: I HONESTLY DON'T THINK I COULD HANDLE THAT RIGHT NOW, EVEN IF YOU ARE KIND OF AN ASS-HAT.  
GT: no, of course not! that would be silly. i don't think i ever found out where my quest bed is for this session.  
GT: i just meant that you're gonna get really busy soon.  
GT: i probably won't talk to you much for awhile, but that's just because i'm going to be busy too.  
GT: lots of irons in the fire and such!  
AG: FUCK, THAT'S WHAT THAT INSUFFERABLE PRICK SAID TOO.  
GT: who, tg?  
GT: he's really not that bad, karl.  
GT: and trust me, there will come a time when you're very glad you know him,  
AG: YEAH, WHATEVER. LOOK, THERE'S A GIANT FUCKING LIZARD HURTLING TOWARDS ME THROUGH THE AIR, AND I'M GOING TO MAKE AN EXECUTIVE DECISION AND DECLARE THAT THIS TAKES PRECEDENT OVER PEOPLE I HATE.  
GT: ...wait. do i count as a person you hate?  
GT: karl?  
  
Karl didn't know how to answer that, so clearly the best solution was to ignore it and snap his phone shut, which he did with aplomb and an angry flourish, watching as the golden object halted its drop mere feet above the water and came sailing towards him at alarming speed. As it moved closer Karl could see leathery wings like a bat's, branching out from powerful shoulders, extended flat over the waves to catch updrafts. The thing was definitely Saurian in shape, a flat, wedge-shaped head preceding a body that undulated back and forth as it flew as though cutting through the air like water. The tail flowed out behind it, a streamer of light made flesh and bone, and atop its bony back resplendent with thorny spines Teri rode, whooping and hollering with excitement as the dragon banked and turned, bringing her parallel to the sea before soaring up the side of the cliff. Karl took a step back automatically as the dragon aligned itself perpendicular to the ground, its belly practically scraping the cliff's edge as it passed.

His breath left him then, and had not returned by the time the dragon had set itself down atop the hill Karl had recently vacated and Teri was sliding off its back carefully, the dragon nudging her side with its wide nose to help her to the ground. "Hey, Karl," she called, those red-rimmed tinted sunglasses pointed in his direction as though she knew exactly where he was, could sense his very soul. She'd acquired a new cane somewhere along the way, Karl noticed, tipped with the brass head of a dragon to match the thing now standing behind her. Karl fancied that the dragon was watching him suspiciously, a thought that was only confirmed when it gave a great huff of steam and half wrapped a wing around its human charge, protectively. "Meet Senator Lemonsnout. I think you'll be good friends." This declaration was punctuated by her usual cackle, and Karl rolled his eyes, hesitantly making his way towards her.

"Yeah, right. Teri, seriously, that thing is going to eat you." The dragon Lemonsnout narrowed its eyes, a demonic sort of intelligence playing over its serpentine face, and snapped its wide jaws in Karl's directon. A flash of white fangs the size of kitchen knives curved backwards to rip and tear at weakened flesh was all Karl saw-- or needed to see, either. Stifling a yelp of fear he hopped backwards again, heart going a mile a minute. After his previous experiences with consorts, Karl was not about to take any chances. "...Or me," he amended at last, cursing the shaken tone his voice had taken.

"No he won't," Teri told him, completely assured of this fact for, as far as Karl could tell, absolutely no good reason. "He's a good dragon. Not like the rest of them. Anyway, if he gives you any trouble, just whack him on the snout." Her toothy grin widened as she patted the dragon on the side of the face, making it wince but not devour her whole as Karl would have expected. "He knows his place." She said it in the kind of way that made Karl vaguely and disquietingly wonder what had happened to the dragons that _didn't._

"Forgive me for not wanting to make friends with your pet monster," Karl snapped, aware that the dragon was still watching him with beady black eyes. There was something insect-like about it, too, the way the plates of its scales overlapped into armor, the way it moved, and again something deep in Karl's soul stirred, afraid. He pushed down that fear, though, transmuted it into anger as he always did and always had; the anger would keep him alive. "Haven't  you noticed by now that the consorts kind of, I don't know, _want to kill us?_ "

Teri shrugged, idly stroking one of the dragon's horns, which at least had the side effect of distracting its attention away from Karl and making it produce an ominous rumbling noise not unlike a purr. A very angry purr. "This one doesn't. He protected me from the rest of them after they ate my sprite. There was a bird with him, but she's gone now."

"Your ability to keep your cool in the midst of utter fucking insanity is very inspiring, really, but I think we should get the fuck out of here before imps show up and try to slaughter us," Karl suggested, edging away from the dragon and in the direction of the distant gate. It looked a long way to walk, nearly all the way across Teri's land, and if they wanted to make any sort of good time, they'd have to start soon. Karl didn't know if time even mattered anymore particularly much, considering that there wasn't jack shit they could do for their friends who weren't in the game yet at this stage, but he did know that he damned well didn't want to hang around a world where dragons roamed free.

His friend seemed to disagree, though, snorting much as the dragon had at this assessment. "You worry too much, Karl," she informed him, stepping away from the dragon with the aid of her cane and towards him. Karl noticed that she was relying on it a lot less than she used to, in the time that seemed a million years ago but was really but two days, using it as a walking stick more than a visual aid. Her footsteps were confident and sure, and she did not trip or falter on the small stones in her path. The dragon lay down in her absence, having judged Karl to be anything but a threat, and curled the barbed tip of its tail around its nose, wings folded again over its back. "Anyway, the dragons took care of the imps. I doubt we'll be seeing any of them for awhile."

"Is that how you got those?" Karl asked, gesturing towards the spiffy new cane and Teri's wardrobe, which was... different, from the black, leg-hugging jeans to the red leather skirt over them, and the black t-shirt striped with teal. She was wearing a tie, too, for some reason, in blood red with a strange symbol marked on it in the same teal color that clashed horribly-- not that she'd have been able to tell that.

"Mm-hmm. Plenty of grist to go around. I got this, too," she said, pulling a fancy new cell-phone from her pocket. It was one of the newer ones with the keyboard separate from the phone part of the phone, and about ten dozen apps that no one knew the precise use or function of, and a map generator that wouldn't work, and probably some sort of instant messaging program. It also had a stylized broken heart symbol embossed on the back, again for reasons that utterly escaped him. "A friend of mine gave me a bunch of codes."

"Yeah, me too," Karl said automatically, without thinking about it, because it was true, wasn't it? Suspicion hit him in turn, and he glanced at his own phone. "It was that asshole guy you're always messaging in class, wasn't it? I hate that insufferable prick."

"You're just jealous," Teri informed him primly, snapping her phone open as it buzzed.

"I am not either!" he protested, but Teri silenced him with a glare and a wave, hitting a few buttons.

"Shush, Karl, the big kids are talking." And, true to form, a voice began to emanate from the device, cool and suave with a hint of a drawling accent that wasn't quite Texan, but wasn't quite anything else, either.

TG: hey tz  
TG: sorry about cutting out on you earlier some shit came up  
TG: its all cool now though  
TG: i am running at the top my game bro  
TG: you ready to blow this thing straight out of the water?

"How's it doing that?" Karl demanded, stalking over to her and looking over her shoulder. "It's just a text service, right? You're not actually _calling_ this guy?"

Teri rolled her dead eyes behind her glasses. "First of all, chill the hell out, Karl, it's none of your business anymore if I call him. Secondly, no, you dick, of course I'm not doing that, the roaming charges alone would be ridiculous. He wrote me a program that reads his texts to me. It's a lot less buggy and stupid than the one I usually use, anyway, so fuck off for a minute, I want to talk to him. Go make friends with Lemonsnout or something."

Grumbling, Karl went, the sound of frantic typing and her friend's stupid voice following him up the hill. He halted before the dragon, which opened an eye and stared at him for a moment before twitching its tail a bit and returning to sleep. Cautiously, Karl leaned back against its solid body, feeling the surprising amount of warmth it exuded. He would have thought dragons would be cold blooded like lizards, but perhaps it was the fire in its belly that was radiating outward now, its scales warm and sunlight-kissed even where they'd been in the shade of its wing. There he sat and stewed in impotent anger, unsure of why he cared so much. She might have broken up with him, but it never would have worked, anyway. Karl didn't like roleplaying, and he didn't like cop dramas and those damn courtroom shows, and he'd always secretly suspected that she'd try to introduce him to the pleasures of autoerotic asphyxiation, and if someone else wanted to deal with that, then fine. More power to them. Karl was fine with that.

Except for the part of him that wasn't, and it bothered him. _(All of this has happened before)_

AG: NO.   
GT: what?   
AG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT? I SAID NO.   
GT: ...oh.   
AG: I THOUGHT ABOUT IT, AND...  
AG: FUCK, I DON'T KNOW. YOU'VE BEEN REALLY HELPFUL AND SHIT  
AG: AND CLEARLY BEING MAD AT YOU FOR BEING A COMPLETE AND UTTER MORON ISN'T WORKING BECAUSE IF I BLOCK YOU I'LL HAVE TO DEAL WITH TERI'S ASSHOLE FRIEND AGAIN  
AG: I GUESS I JUST LACK THE CAPACITY RIGHT NOW TO HATE YOU MORE THAN I HATE EVERYTHING ELSE, SO IT'S KIND OF EVENING OUT TO ME NOT HATING YOU AT ALL.   
GT: well... i guess blackrom wouldn't have worked out anyway, heh. you're too cute to hate!   
AG: YOU KNOW WHAT, I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE ENERGY TO ASK WHAT THE GODDAMN FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT RIGHT NOW.  
AG: SO I'M JUST GOING TO PRETEND THAT MADE ANY SORT OF SENSE WHATSOEVER AND GO ON WITH MY LIFE   
GT: it makes lots of sense!  
GT: but, um, i guess i probably shouldn't explain it right now, heh. might freak you out!   
AG: OH YES, HEAVEN FORBID YOU FREAK OUT THE GUY WHO IS TYPING THIS WHILE HANGING OUT WITH A GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING _DRAGON_.   
GT: hehe  
GT: anyway, you still owe me a favor!   
AG: OH FUCK THAT SHIT SO HARD.  
AG: YOU KNOW WHAT?  
AG: I TAKE IT BACK.  
AG: FUCK YOU AND THE DRAGON YOU RODE IN ON, EGBERT.  
AG: I HATE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF.   
GT: no you don't.   
AG: I HATE YOU MORE THAN THAT TG ASSHOLE.   
GT: no you don't.   
AG: I HATE YOU MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF.   
GT: no you... don't?  
GT: actually that one's depressing either way.   
AG: YEAH YOU'RE RIGHT THOUGH, YOU'RE NOT QUITE THAT TERRIBLE.   
GT: you shouldn't hate yourself, karl.  
GT: just remember, none of it's your fault.  
GT: it never was.   
AG: SHUT UP, EGBERT. YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME.   
GT: i know everything about you, karl. i told you, i've known you all your life.  
GT: and before that, too.  
GT: i can't tell you everything right now, but one day you'll know.  
GT: i just hope when that time comes you can forgive me.   
AG: FOR WHAT? FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE?   
GT: no, for letting this happen.  
GT: for failing to stop it time and time again.  
GT: and... gog, i shouldn't be saying this but if it'll help you wake up...  
GT: for letting you die.   
AG: WHAT?  
AG: NO, REALLY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU...  
AG: EGBERT, WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS GAME? WHAT IS IT REALLY?   
GT: i have to go now, karl. lots of irons in the fire.  
GT: if you need to speak to one of us again, try gg   
AG: DAMN IT, WHAT IF I WANT TO TALK TO _YOU?_   
GT: you will, and i won't be able to answer.  
GT: but that's okay, because i'll see you again. i'm sure of it.  
GT: and i'll talk to you soon, maybe!  
GT: just... please, try to stay alive until i can get there.   
AG: JESUS CHRIST, AT LEAST GIVE ME ONE STRAIGHT ANSWER BEFORE YOU GO.   
GT: okay.  
GT: i promise.  
GT: just one answer, completely truthful, and then i'm gone, really.   
AG: OKAY, OKAY. I... FUCK.  
AG: OKAY, I GUESS I WANT TO KNOW... WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? HELPING ME, I MEAN? WATCHING OVER ME LIKE SOME FUCKING FAERIE FROM A DISNEY CARTOON? YOU'RE BEING SPECTACULARLY FUCKING OBTUSE ABOUT IT, BUT STILL. I JUST DON'T GET IT.   
GT: really, karl?  
GT: sorry, i guess i thought that was obvious.  
GT: i'm helping you because i love you.   
AG: ...

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at ??:?? ! --

AG: FUCK, NO, THAT'S NOT FAIR.  
AG: EGBERT YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW.  
AG: I'M NOT PLAYING, DAMN IT.  
AG: ...FUCK.

"Hey, Karl!" Teri shouted from the land below, but Karl's mind was still elsewhere, his head in the clouds. Inside his chest something was roaring, a grief as sudden and spectacular as it was inexplicable. For a moment--

 _(You are in a space station, cold and sterile, but his words are bold and blue, telling you he is on his way, somehow, that he will save you, but in the dead of eternal night you know his words, so hopeful, cannot help but be false, and you weep for the both of you and innocence soon to be lost)_

\--tears pricked at his eyes, and Karl tipped his head back to the sky as the dragon raised its head, snake-like tongue flicking out to lap at unfallen tears. "Fuck," he muttered, aloud, hands balled to fists, nearly hard enough to crush his phone. Why was this so hard? Some creepy internet troll had just declared love for him, he should have been skeeved out and deleting the kid from his contact list with the vengeance of an angry god, not mourning for something he'd never known and would have been hard pressed to explain. Confusion assaulted him--

And then Teri assaulted him, rapping him in the head with the end of her cane. "Karl, are you in there?"

"I think so," he told her, pocketing the phone and scrabbling again to his feet, backing out of her range while rubbing the sort spot on his skull. Instantly his inner turmoil faded, and while he continued to not be weirded out by it, the mad desire to track down Egbert again and say something to him, anything, had gone.

"Good, because I think it's time for us to leave."

"Why?" Karl growled, some of his anger returning again to cover his embarrassment. "Did your little boyfriend run out of terrible rhymes?"

"He is not my 'boyfriend', that would just be silly. ...And his rhymes are not terrible, they are sick."

"Same difference."

Teri swiped at him again and Karl just barely hopped out of the way in time, the cane making a 'whoosh' noise as it sliced through the air but inches from his face. "Will you shut up for five seconds and pay attention, please?"

Not wanting to incur any more of her wrath, Karl nodded, and then added, "Yeah, yeah, fine. What's up?"

"That," she said gravely, pointing to the sky as a shadow passed over the sun. Looking up, Karl gulped and went quiet. A flock of dragons had gathered, and was coming right towards them.

\---  
 _  
Your name is not Karkat Vantas. Nor is it John Egbert or Aradia Megido or Terezi Pyrope. You are nameless now, blank, nothing in this instant that goes on forever. The future speaks to you, and the present and the past, and whispers across worthless ages you could leap in a millisecond if you so desired. Whispers,_ choose. _Which of you is real? You must decide, and keep deciding, every day and every minute or this knowledge will split your mind apart. There is little difference either way-- all such entities are real --but the difference it makes could be catastrophic._

 _In the end there is no choice; you are bitter about that, but it is true. He has always had the best memories, the ones least tempered with pain._

 _Your name is Daevid Strida, briefly and for the last time, and then you melt away, becoming but a voice in the night, immaterial. And then you are no one._

\---

"Get on!" Teri shouted as the dragon knelt, grabbing its spines and hauling herself up on its back, and Karl didn't need to be told twice. It took him two tries and several false starts but he did it, coming to rest between the dragons wings behind her, instinctively wrapping his arms around her middle for dear life as the dragon lurched to its feet again. "Hold on tightly now," and Karl nodded against her shoulder, not quite daring to speak.

He did, though, when the dragon flapped its wings and rose, bounding forward on powerful legs, and what came out was mostly profanities. "Fuck!" he nearly screamed into her ear when the dragon was galloping, bouncing him around between its shoulder blades while Teri got the prime seat at the base of its neck, and she winced away from him, giving him a dirty look.

"Karl, if you keep shouting, I'm not going to be able to steer," she warned, and for the first time, Karl noticed that the dragon had reins of black leather, and Teri was gripping them firmly, her knuckles white from stress.

"It lets you _steer?_ " Karl gasped incredulously as the dragon, having reached sufficient speed, barreled towards the cliff edge. "Why don't you steer it somewhere not completely insane, then?!"

"It's going towards the cliff, right?"

 _"Yes!"_

"Then relax, Karl. I know what I'm doing."

"I severely doubt that!" Karl said, or tried to say, but then the dragon was over the cliff and they were falling, falling, fuck he was going to die and it was such a goddamn waste. Teri tugged hard on the reins and the dragon's wings opened again, catching an updraft, and then they were sailing, the broad wings flapping rapidly, bearing them upward and towards the mass of enemy monsters.

"This is just to get a little height," Teri shouted over the rushing of the wind in his ears and their hair as the dragon climbed, and when they were close enough that Karl could see sunlight glinting off the sharp talons of a malicious dragon whose deep blue scales treacherously reminded Karl of something, she pulled the reins again, banking them off to the left and back towards shore. They were still gaining both height and speed, rocketing over plains and past hills, passing up dozens of those strange monuments. Nowhere was there a building, a sign of Teri's house or a bed like the one Alice had died on, nowhere a river of blood or hill of bones, only glorious light and the heat of the dragon below them, a cloud of sparking smoke billowing from its slightly slack mouth as the beast panted with exertion. It was rather magnificent, Karl had to grudgingly admit, feeling the world pass by around him as the wind pulled at his clothes.

There was danger behind them, though, and that was distracting; glancing over his shoulder, Karl could see the pack gaining on them, all teeth and claws and fire, and fear dug into him, gripping hard. "Can't you make it go faster?" he asked, frantic, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

"No," she replied tersely, giving the dragon Lemonsnout's neck an encouraging rub. "He's working as hard as he can to begin with. Can you see it, Karl?"

"See what?"

"The gate. Nell told me about it before she ran off to find Earl, but I don't know exactly where it is, obviously. Are we still going the right way?"

Karl looked up again, scouring the horizon for a sign. "Yeah, it's there," he remarked. "We're gaining on it, too. Just a little more..." It wouldn't matter, though, he was suddenly sure. The lead dragon, larger and fancier than the others with red brocade rimming its cerulean scales, was so close that it was snapping at Lemonsnout's tail now, and there were hundreds more behind it, so thickly packed that their wings blotted out the sky. They were flying over a forest, dense and thick and green, and it was pretty, but Karl didn't want it to be the last thing he saw.

The alpha dragon was beside them now, letting out a shriek of frustration and boundless anger, and Teri swore, swerving hard enough away from it that they did a barrel roll, tumbling through the sky haphazardly. Karl held on tighter to her, but he still felt as though he would fall, an impression not destroyed when they were righted again and he saw that they'd fallen a hundred feet or so, the tips of the tree tops dangerously close. The alpha dragon dove, and before Lemonsnout could move it had rammed into his side, driving him into the foliage. Karl shouted in surprise and panic as the branches clawed at him, scraping his face, making him lose his purchase on the dragon. He was falling, freely falling, with no dragon to catch him and the world coming up fast. The branches broke numerous tiny falls, nearly snapping his limbs in the process, and he was sure he passed out for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes again he was laying on his stomach, a stab of pain in his ankle showing that it was badly twisted.

Groaning and looking around, Karl propped himself against the trunk of a tree and sat, mouth dry, hoping that shock would not settle in.

Teri was gone, at least for the moment. Alice was gone. All his friends were in other dimensions. Egbert was... somewhere, not answering.

For the first time in his life, Karl was utterly alone.

\---

 _\--and Dave Strider blinks behind his brother's glasses, the voices around him quieting at last. "Sup?" he asks with a nod, the ghost of a cocky smile hovering over thin lips._

 _"Come on, coolkid," Aradia laughs, and the sound is like bells. "We've got work to do."_

 __

 _\---_

 _AG: EGBERT, YOU FUCKER, ANSWER ME.  
AG: LOOK I KNOW YOU'RE BUSY BUT  
AG: FUCK  
AG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE JUST BEEN THROUGH  
AG: OR HELL, MAYBE YOU DO. I DON'T CARE.  
AG: JUST ANSWER ME.  
AG: PLEASE.  
  
_

_\---_

 _  
_GC: D43V1D? WH3R3 4R3 W3?  
TG: its a dream bubble tz  
TG: i shouldnt be able to do this but aradias helping  
TG: so im going to be totally fucking serious here for a minute okay and you have to listen  
TG: this kind of opportunity only comes once in a lifetime bro  
TG: you know you want to hop on board the sincerity train with me  
TG: riding first class down memory lane and shit  
TG: i dont know how much youll remember when you wake up but theres not much time  
TG: fuck i dont even know how much ill remember  
TG: and i've got so much stuff to show you  
TG: but youve got to open your eyes  
  
She trusts him. She hates that she trusts him, but she does, and she opens her eyes as he reaches up and carefully, nearly reverently, slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and off her face. There is light, brighter than she can remember it being, but it doesn't sting, only lights and caresses and plays over his face, soft and human, and isn't that a strange thing to think of it as? But she can see, and that's all that matters, and if she weren't so busy trying to impress him with her coolness she might have hugged him._   
_

_"Hot damn," she whispers instead, her voice feeling choked, hoarse. "You really are my magical fairy godfather."_

 _"Yeah," he tells her, his voice smooth but almost breaking; it's a small fissure, but there, and she can hear it if she tries, because suddenly she feels like she's spent lifetimes listening for it. "I'm pretty much just the best there is." He is wearing sunglasses too, and it doesn't seem fair that he should keep his; she reaches up to take them in turn but he backs away, one giant step backwards that takes him well out of her range, the hint of a smile disappearing. "Hey, come on, you know the rules. No one touches the glasses."_

 __They were his brother's _, she thinks, erroneously._ He's wearing them again now, what does that mean? _Says, "You let me touch them once before, coolkid. Don't pretend like you don't remember."_

 _"Yeah, but that was a long time ago," he says, voice flat and devoid of emotion again, apathetic. "And it never really happened. It's hard to explain."_

 _She frowns, displeased, and sets her hands balled to fists on her hips; long black nails dig into palms that are suddenly gray as stone, as though she's been dusted with ash. Somehow this is neither surprising nor alarming, only natural. The way it should be. "Try me," Terezi demands._

 _And as time unwinds around them, he begins to tell her._

\---

Night fell, and darkness came. In the forest there was only blackness everywhere, surrounding, and quiet punctuated by the soft whisper of the wind through the trees, swaying their branches. Through gaps in the leaves and twigs shafts of silver moonlight streamed down, lighting the loamy forest floor in a patchwork of drab, washed-out color. Gone was the burning sun that had hung in the sky, so warm and welcoming; now Karl looked up and saw nothing but darkness and foreign stars.

Once he'd been able to name all the constellations, but now no more. The stars were but pinpricks of light a thousand miles above him, twinkling down mockingly as they shivered in their cold sky, threatening to fall. Karl didn't know if that was true or if it was the pain in his throbbing ankle speaking, but it didn't matter much when he was dragging himself through breaks in the close-packed trees, feverish, leaning heavily against a branch he'd snapped from the trunk of a rotting log.

He had to find Teri. It was the only thing left that he knew for sure, the only real goal he had. He had to find her, because if she was gone, then his mind was fit to break. She wasn't answering her phone, and pesterchum was likewise failing to rouse her, so he'd gone looking, picking a random direction and setting off. It was slow going because of his injury, and there wasn't a sprite about to heal him, but he pressed on, determined.

Until, of course, he ran out of steam and tossed the stick away, leaning heavily against a tree to catch his breath. He'd been walking for hours, maybe in circles, and his side was beginning to ache as much as his ankle was. As he was gasping for air his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket and he scrambled to answer it, nearly dropping it in a pile of leaves in his haste to answer. "Please be Teri," he muttered to the universe at large, and scowled at the unfamiliar text, disappointment and worry crushing him.

\-- ghastlyGentry [GG] began trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at ??? --

GG: hey, fuckass!  
GG: guess you went and fucked everything up already, huh?   
GG: not that that's unusual.  
GG: :)   
AG: OH MY FUCKING GOD, ANOTHER ONE.  
AG: GREAT. FANTASTIC. JUST WHAT I FUCKING NEEDED RIGHT NOW.  
AG: I AM NOT PUTTING UP WITH YOUR PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE BULLSHIT, WHOEVER YOU ARE.   
GG: aw, calm down, karl!  
GG: i just thought you might need some help while jawwhn is off helping tt with her super secret project.  
GG: anyway, i found a great captcha code in his stack!  
GG: i think he was going to give it to you.   
AG: HEY, YOU CAN SEE ME TOO, RIGHT?   
GG: of course, silly!   
AG: OKAY, THEN YOU CAN PROBABLY SEE THAT _I AM NOT IN ANY FUCKING CONDITION TO BE ALCHEMIZING SHIT RIGHT NOW, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU._   
GG: oh, it's not for now! you wouldn't be able to wield it yet, anyway.  
GG: i don't think jawwhn can wield it either, and he's at the top of his echeladder!  
GG: not to mention he's mostly been using sickles this session.   
AG: OKAY, FINE, SEND IT OVER. LIKE I EVEN GIVE A FUCK.   
GG: it's an investment for the future, karl, geez. :|   
AG: ALRIGHT, ASSHOLE, I HAVE A QUESTION.  
AG: AND IF YOU TELL ME I HAVE TO DO YOU A FAVOR FIRST I AM GOING TO REACH THROUGH THE INTERNET, AND ACROSS SPACE AND TIME IF I HAVE TO, AND SLAP YOU INTO NEXT WEEK.   
GG: time is a meaningless construct when it comes to our interactions, but okay.  
GG: what do you want to know?   
AG: IF YOU CAN SEE ME, YOU CAN SEE TERI, RIGHT?   
GG: i guess.   
AG: COULD YOU TELL ME IF SHE'S OKAY?   
GG: awww, are you worried, karl?   
AG: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK?   
GG: i think that's so sweet!  
GG: jawwhn will be disappointed, though. :(   
AG: YEAH HE TOLD ME ALL ABOUT HIS RETARDED MANCRUSH.  
AG: WHEN YOU SEE HIM, TELL HIM I'M NOT A HOMOSEXUAL, ALRIGHT?   
GG: ...we're going for the irony angle, are we?  
GG: i wouldn't, if i were you. that's tg and gc's territory!  
GG: and i don't think you'd be very good at throwing down super cool sick beats, no offense.   
AG: OH MY GOD SHUT UP.  
AG: WHY IS EVERYTHING ABOUT ROMANCE WITH YOU TROLLS, ANYWAY?   
GG: it's important, karl!  
GG: you don't even know.   
AG: YEAH, YOU'RE RIGHT, I DON'T. AND I DON'T NEED IT FUCKING EXPLAINED TO ME, BEFORE YOU OFFER.   
GG: i don't need to explain it!  
GG: i could just show you~ ;)   
AG: FUCK.  
AG: MY.  
AG: LIFE.  
AG: I KNOW I HAVE NOT JUST BEEN PROPOSITIONED BY TWO INTERNET TROLLS IN ONE DAY. THAT IS NOT A THING THAT IS HAPPENING.   
GG: geeeeez, get the stick out of your ass, why don't you.  
GG: it was a joke!   
AG: YEAH, SURE, HILARIOUS.  
AG: HAHAHA. CAN YOU SEE ME OVER HERE LAUGHING?   
GG: why are you making that hand gesture? what does it--  
GG: oh.  
GG: well, fuck you too! >:|   
AG: CAN WE JUST GET BACK TO THE WHEREABOUTS OF MY FRIEND?   
GG: fiiiiiine.  
GG: i promised him i'd help you, so i guess i have to, even if you are a jerk.   
AG: YOU'RE THE ONE MAKING TASTELESS JOKES!   
GG: whatever. anyway, gc is fine.  
GG: she's sleeping, actually.  
GG: okay? can you stop freaking out now?   
AG: NO.  
AG: ARE YOU SURE SHE'S NOT HURT? "DEAD" AND "SLEEPING" LOOK PRETTY FUCKING SIMILAR.   
GG: i can see her breathing.  
GG: there's kind of a lot of blood, though, let me zoom in...  
GG: oh ow. she's got a pretty bad scrape down her arm.  
GG: doesn't look like anything's broken, though!  
GG: no bones poking out of skin, or anything.  
GG: you should really go find her, though. you need to get moving.   
AG: YEAH, I'M FUCKING AWARE OF THAT.   
GG: you're running on limited time here, karl!  
GG: tt says you need to get through the last gate exactly when ta enters the medium, or there's going to be trouble.  
GG: the horrorterrors have been speaking to her again, i think.  
GG: which is a good sign!  
GG: but also really worrying on a personal level.   
AG: LOOK, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS STUPID GAME RIGHT NOW, OKAY?  
AG: I'M GOING TO GO MAKE SURE THAT TERI'S ALRIGHT AND NOT IN SHOCK OR SOMETHING, AND THEN _MAYBE_ WE CAN CONTINUE THIS CONVERSATION LATER AND YOU CAN EXPLAIN, I DON'T KNOW, WHAT FUCKING ANY OF THAT MEANS.   
GG: okay. i'll be waiting!

Karl closed his phone with a snap and staggered forward again, his stick lost in the darkness. It didn't matter, though, because before he'd gone more than a hundred feet, stumbling and tripping over roots and rocks as he went, a beam of moonlight fell upon something long and white, and his mouth went dry. Teri's cane, he thought, picking it up and leaning on it; her original cane had been thin, for feeling out the world around her rather than traveling through it, but this one was sturdy, a weapon, and he could use it adequately as a walking aid.

"Teri?" he called, half desperate, trudging diligently through the forest, feeling crippled and slow. If something attacked him just then, if the shadows stopped writhing and detached themselves from where they were draped over rocks and trees and came for him, then he would be helpless-- but regardless of the danger, he couldn't stop himself from crying out for her, trying to wake her, find her, keep her safe. He had no idea what happened to the dragon, but maybe it was hurt too, maybe it was dead. Egbert's friend with the radioactive green text hadn't said, maybe because she hadn't thought it noteworthy or for... other reasons.

In the distance, high above, a dragon shrieked furiously, and a shadow passed over the moon, plunging the world into complete darkness for a few brief, utterly terrifying seconds. Karl crouched in on himself instinctively, trying to make himself small, and then the moment passed and his heart started again. One by one, the other dragons answered the first, their far-off voices running into a cacophony of pure terror. Trembling despite himself, because no one he physically knew could see, Karl advanced slowly, gripping the dragon head of Teri's cane so hard that his hand would bruise.

And then he froze still as a statue again, pushing past some foliage to arrive in a clearing. Between the rocks stood a dragon, proud and stern, its scales like plates of shining iron in the moonlight. It took Karl a moment of studying it while it watched him with impassive red eyes to realize that it was Lemonsnout, still wearing his reins and harness and he relaxed by inches, moving awkwardly towards it. "Where's Teri?" he demanded, confident that the dragon wouldn't hurt him; it'd had plenty of opportunities to before and hadn't bitten his head off yet, so now probably wasn't the time either. And indeed, it didn't, only turning away from him and stalking off into the woods. Karl noticed that it was limping too, just a little, and that it was holding one of its wings out from its body a bit, the leathery skin lightly torn and scraped. Karl followed it through the woods a bit and down a hill, into a gorge with high stone walls, slipping on the skree. It looked man-made, cut from the bedrock, and there Teri lay, curled up in a ball, looking small and vulnerable, like a broken toy. Her black hair fell in waves over her face, and her sunglasses had fallen off, one of the lenses popped out.

Karl picked up the frames and knelt down beside her, carefully brushing the hair out of her eyes. Yes, she was breathing, if shallowly, and other than a wet spot on the back of her head and a cut down her left arm that had mostly healed, she seemed fine. He put his hand on her side and squeezed, checking for broken ribs and attempting to rouse her, and she moaned quietly in her sleep; a sore spot, perhaps, and Karl yanked his hand away immediately, trying not to panic. "Teri?" he repeated, shaking her shoulder, instead. "Hey, come on, wake up. We have to get out of here. The dragons..." he allowed his sentence to trail off and die as above him the dragons squalled again; Lemonsnout glared up at the sky, snorting clouds of angry smoke. Karl swallowed, shaking her a little harder. "The dragons will figure out that they can just burn down the fucking trees eventually. Teri, please we have to leave."  _And I don't want you to die,_ Karl added, in the privacy of his own head. She might have left him, might have broken his heart once, but that didn't matter. Christ, it didn't matter, she was one of his best friends and if she died here, not like Alice had but here where there was no magic to lift her up and save her, then Karl didn't know what he would do.

At last she stirred, moaning again, and opened her eyes, still milky white. "Karl?" she asked, sounding disappointed. "Are you there? I can't see you."

"Fuck, how hard did you hit your head?" Karl asked, worried, pressing her glasses back into unresisting hands and helping her sit up, cross-legged on the floor of the ravine. "Of course you can't see me, Teri, you're..."

"Blind," she spat, sounding disgusted as she slid her sunglasses back on, scowling. "Yeah, yeah, I know, don't remind me. I must have been dreaming."

"Well, nap time is over, okay?" Karl told her, getting to his feet again with some effort. "It's time to get the fuck out of here before one of these scaly freaks makes us into a midnight snack." With his help Teri struggled to her feet and onto the dragon, who had crouched again in preparation; Karl climbed on after with some difficulty, his ankle nearly buckling under his weight for one frightening second, and the instant he'd seated himself the dragon was rearing up again, spreading its wings and tensing the muscles of its powerful back legs. It tipped back its head and roared, a jet of oily red and orange flames gushing towards the canopy; sparks flew and caught, and the leaves were ablaze within moments, scouring away a hole for them to pass through.

The dragon leapt. Karl clung tightly to Teri, who pressed herself down nearly flat against the dragon's neck silent and serious. Strong wingbeats bore them slowly upward as above the conflagration other, more monstrous dragons howled their anger and premature triumph. Darkness was rescinded, gradually, and then they burst through the ring of fire, the dragon's scales glowing a crackling, primordial yellow. This was fire, true and pure. This was what the first men had looked upon in awe and fear at the dawn of time, staring into the heart of the blaze. It lived in this dragon, it _was_ this dragon and the dragon was it, was the fire, sacred and fierce, burning forever in the secret hearts of men, lurking in their lizard brains, ready to be recognized and acknowledged once more.

Into the deep navy black of the sky they shot, climbing upward still, and then the dragon let itself fall, spreading its wings at last to catch the warm updrafts from the fire. Karl nearly fell three times, unseated and jostled and bumped, but he did not care, he couldn't care. He was alive, and everything was amazing, and the magic of it made him tremble. The other dragons crowded around them like bats, their wings flapping in a way that would have been silent individually but was magnified by the multitude, and Lemonsnout rose again by feet and inches, rolling and swerving to avoid teeth and claws. "Can we even take this thing through the gate?" Karkat shouted over the din and the gale, wind tearing at his clothes and hair.

"I damn well hope so," Teri yelled back as the dragon edged closer to the aforementioned gate, now clearly visible against the blackness. A spark hurtled by overhead, like a shooting star, towards the rainbow gate and through it, and Karl was convinced he'd seen it before, that it was an entity of its own right. "Nell didn't bother building any stairs!"

The largest of the dragons snapped at Lemonsnout's flank and a scale was ripped away, a chink in the armor revealed as golden ichor spilled from the wound like precious raindrops. His pained scream echoed for miles, for the whole of the planet, and Karl regretted not being able to cover his now ringing ears. The dragon bit again, tearing, and this time a chunk of hallowed flesh ripped away, but still Lemonsnout flew on, approaching the gate. "I guess we'll find out," Karl muttered darkly, and closed his eyes.

There was a final shriek, a final scream, and then his senses were filled yet again with glorious nothingness.


	6. Fifth Iteration: The Sea Without Shore

_When you wake up, it is too soon. You lay flat on your back on your human style bed, which doesn't seem as uncomfortable as it once did, and your hands ball to fists as a directive drops straight in your mind, seemingly out of nowhere-- you are wanted. You must come._

 _So you do, obeying without complaint because she is the highblood after all, and you are lowblood mutant scum, and these things still mean something to you, even though you wish they didn't. You cannot stop it. Your body is not your own. There is a package laying beside you that you are sure was not there when you went to sleep, bound in maroon fabric. You do not want to touch it; instinctively, you push it away from you and it goes, never really there in the first place._

 _You find her in the ectobiology laboratory, and she frowns at you, all serious, lines creasing her brows where stress has prematurely taken its toll. She's still beautiful, like a black widow spider; powerful and dangerous, destructive force that could lash out at any moment, delicate and deliberate and cruel. "Did you get it?" she demands, and one of those damn wands is in her hand, tapping against the palm of the other, smack, smack, smack, like a metronome, keeping time you don't have. "The last piece-- did you find it?"_

 _"Yeah, she gave it to me," you grunt, taking the thing out from thin air. Wrapped in cloth, you can feel it beating softly still, and shudders run down your spine. This,_ this _is the tumor that has poisoned their session so many times before, given to the wrong person, the one who couldn't resist the siren call of death and destruction. It is warm and heavy in your hand, and you feel slightly sick despite all you know and all you've seen; the girl who was once your sister takes it quickly, fortunately, snapping it up as though you can't be trusted not to drop it in the dust, her hand brushing yours warmly for the mere flicker of a second-- you did good. "What are you going to do with it, anyway?" you ask, glancing towards the half-assembled hunk of metal in the back of the lab. "Don't tell me it's going to go in that... thing."_

 _You don't approve of the thing. Neither does Aradia. You both know that it is essential, however. She can cross into your session only in dreams, and you cannot cross into hers at all unless she expends a great and grave amount of power; letting you see Terezi again, for the first time in many cycles, was a selfish danger you can all barely afford. Nevertheless, the thing is_ wrong. _Its wrongness is so profound and fundamental that even without god tier powers you can feel the scream of the universe as it tears, reverberating in the heart of every atom just by being near it. When it is complete, you won't be able to be in the same room with it without breaking down with a massive headache, which is just the epitome of uncool._

 _"Yes, Daevid," she snaps primly, dismissing you with a small wave as she turns back towards the machine, where Egbert is waiting, wrench in hand. "And also no. I'm going to forge a weapon."_

 _"Oh yeah?" you ask, suddenly interested. "What kind?"_

 _Her smile raises more questions than it answers as she turns her head towards you over her shoulder and says, "I'm making our third wish."_

\---

"Karl?" Teri asked hesitantly, disentangling herself from him and slipping down off the dragon's back, leaving Karl to fall forward onto the space she'd vacated between its shoulders. "What did you see?"

"Nothing," he answered, voice hollow, speaking into Lemonsnout's back. The dragon sat down heavily with a huff and a whine, injured, but bent its head back nevertheless to huff its hot breath on Karl's hair and give his forehead a lick. It was like being licked by sandpaper. "Absolutely fucking nothing." And for some reason, that felt... wrong. Like something else had left him, deserted him. He badly wanted, he realized, to speak with Egbert, but he pushed that thought from his mind as he propelled himself off the dragon as well, landing in the dust and opening his eyes only under duress.

Nell's land was... not what he'd expected. "Welcome to the Land of Low Cliffs and Tombs," Teri intoned imperiously, presenting the gloomy landscape to him with a sweeping gesture, and then broke down cackling, leaning hard on her cane. "Nell's gone already, but she said she'd leave us a map to where we need to go."

Above them, thunder rolled and cracked luxuriously, purple thunderheads laying like a thick blanket over the world. Lightning cracked and flashed, and any moment there would be rain drops, but that was alright; the dry, wind-blasted cliff-face they stood on was facing a building with a tower in the center, and in the top of the tower he could just barely make out the next gate. "Fuck maps, it's right fucking there," he growled, tossing his head towards it for his own benefit. Let's get back on the dragon and go."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Karl," Teri told him, frowning slightly. "Nell said it was important, and anyway, Lemonsnout is hurt. I don't think he'll be up for any more flights for awhile." The dragon gave a pained whimper in confirmation, its eyes doleful and pleading.

The wind kicked up, and chanced to blow a piece of paper straight into Karl's face; swearing, he brushed it off, crumpling it up and beginning to throw it aside before he noticed the things hastily scribbled on it in red crayon. It was definitely from Nell, as the sloppy drawing attested, though it looked less like a map and more like a beginner's attempt at drawing one of those maze puzzles you got on the backs of restaurant placemats for children sometimes. "Karl," the note began, and he read it aloud if under his breath, Teri leaning in close to catch his words. "this is the labyrinth. You and Teri can purrobably skip it if you want, but just because you can doesn't mean you should! I think that's something you never really understood, Karkitty. You and a lot of our furiends. I feel like you really need to, like it might be impurrtant for the future. And like the game wants you to. Just think about it!" Nell had signed it with a little heart, and Karl would have felt guilty about throwing it away, so he folded it and pocketed it roughly, scowling. "Well, what do you make of that?"

Teri shrugged. "I think we should do it. It can't hurt anything."

"Can your dragon make it, you think?" he asked next, warily. "Or, I don't know, should we put it out of its misery?" Karl eyed the dragon, whose gaze had turned suddenly malevolent once more, and shuddered, discounting that idea before it had even properly had time to settle in. "I guess not, then," he muttered, and took its reins in one hand, his hammer in the other as he began to walk towards the building of the labyrinth, the only thing on the cracked and dry plain besides the occasional stunted, long-dead skeleton of a tree. Teri hesitated for but a heartbeat and then followed, still uncharacteristically quiet. Karl leaned on the dragon and it leaned on him, as much as it could, and the trip seemed to take forever, desolation surrounding them.

At last the labyrinth loomed ahead, its cracking facade covered with runes in a strange and distant language, looking almost Celtic in origin; Karl sure as fuck couldn't have placed them, if pressed. The mouth of the building was open, a hole seemingly cut jaggedly in the stone, emptying into a wide and darkened hallway. He dropped the dragon's leads and advanced alone, footsteps crunching loudly in the gravel, the only noise in the world for a brief moment, and stood staring into the darkness, waiting to be consumed. Then with a whoosh of burning air a row of torches lit, coming to life and showing that the hallway branched off into three possibilities soon enough, each leading to a different section of the labyrinth. "We stick together," he commanded, and Teri nodded, resting a hand on Lemonsnout's shoulder; this time they walked in unison, as Karl marched on ahead.

Stepping into the labyrinth was like stepping into another world. Everything here was cold and crystal sharp, like the stars hanging distant in the unseen sky, and the floor was solid beneath him; Karl had the unsettling feeling of realizing that he'd feared falling when he'd been standing outside, and only coming to that conclusion after the imagined danger had passed. There was little sound other than the echo of his footsteps and a sudden wind whistling through the corridor; only one set of footsteps, even after Teri and the dragon had entered.

"We go this way," he declared, choosing the middle path, but as soon as he had entered, the world lurched sickeningly to the left, and the floor rumbled as a wall rose up behind him, sealing him in and Teri out. Flushed with a new wave of nausea and fear, Karl banged on the wall with his fists until they were bloody and raw, and then with the hammer, calling out to her, fighting the urge to sob-- but the wall did not fall, and only silence answered him. Silence, and the wind.

Karl sunk to the floor on his knees, a wash of despair taking him. She was gone, gone, and how would he find her again, it was his fault, they were doomed--

 _Do not,_ a voice whispered, clear and present, and a ghostly hand pushed the hair from his face. _Do not, dear Heir. Follow me._ And now there was another pair of footsteps, receding down the hall; Karl bolted to his feet and charged after them, heedless of the protesting pain in his ankle. That voice, that damn voice, it was still calling him, beckoning. That voice that had called him Heir, that had saved him from darkness, brought him out of the ashes before he could truly crumble.

That voice had been Alice's voice.

"Alice!" he shouted, hoarsely, charging down the hall, turning corners where his mind directed, fevered but following the truth. "Alice, where are you? Are you here? Oh, god, did I really kill you? Please, please don't be a ghost." He panted harshly, tripping over nothing but his own ineptitude as the path sloped gradually downward, and turned the last corner, the stitch in his side pronounced. Karl leaned heavily against the wall and looked out ahead of him. The corridor Alice had lead him through terminated in a round room, with nine different entrances and exits arranged equidistant from each other. In the center was a raised dais,  an alter, upon which was perched a huge cat with wings and the face of a beautiful woman. She looked a little like his mother, Karl thought, and a little like Teri.

"Welcome, dear child," she said in a voice like the thunder, smooth and crashing. Her claws came out with a little _snick_ noise, digging into the soft sandstone she stood upon, and she smiled, pouring poison into Karl's ears with every word. "Do you know me?"

"Yeah," he told her weakly, standing as straight as he could again. "You're the sphinx, aren't you? 'What walks on four legs in the morning', etc. etc. etc. I already know the answer, so let's cut the shit-- it's man, alright? Do I win a prize?"

The sphinx shook her head in mock sadness, still grinning but now showing some teeth, her wings fluttering. "Perhaps once, dear child, but not here. The rules have changed, I am afraid."

"How?" Karl demanded, and she growled slightly, sending a tremor of fear down Karl's spine again. Suddenly his feet were rooted to the ground as terror took him, holding him in its iron grasp; this was a real and immediate danger. The sphinx was a monster, a consort, ready to kill him if he made a wrong move-- which it looked as though he already had.

"There is one question, for which you will have three attempts to answer. If you get it wrong twice, you will be sent back into the labyrinth to ponder it and wander back here. A third incorrect response is grounds for... termination." Her claws flicked again, and her pink cat's tongue darted out to lick her lips; Karl shivered again, feeling betrayed. Why had Alice deserted him? She had lead him here to die, but why?

"What happens if I get it right?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Then I will show you the door that leads to salvation," she replied, simply, and spoke again before Karl could continue to debase himself. "Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," he said quietly, and punctuated it with a nod, clutching the handle of his hammer hard. "What's the question?"

"That's simple," the sphinx informed him, its broad grin turning wolfish, predatory. "As riddles go, it is a paradox; it is the one thing you have known all of your life, and the one thing that has always slipped through your fingers like sand. Boy, who _are_ you?"

"I'm Karl Vates," he said without thinking, and felt a sword materialize above his neck; it was wrong. It could not be wrong, but it was, the chill in his belly told him, and the sphinx was shaking her head sadly now, gesturing towards a door with her paw as the other doorways slammed shut, closed off to him.

"Please do try harder next time," she implored him as he trudged off, his legs like lead. "I would be so sad to eat a sweet boy like you."

This time the corridor was empty, and remained empty. Karl walked in it for what seemed like a century, pondering what the sphinx had meant. He was Karl Vates, of course he was. That was all he was and all he ever had been, contained in that name. It was his identity. It was what everyone called him other than Nell, who was crazy, and the man from his dreams, who never quite managed to get out the name he desired to call Karl.

So Karl was Karl. But was he also something else? Or had the sphinx meant something other than a name, something that ran deeper? Perhaps it had to do with his title, he thought, but what was that? The Heir of something, perhaps of blood. On the second pass by he tried that, standing tall and proud this time, equally as confident. "Boy, who _are_ you?" the sphinx asked.

And Karl replied, "I am the Heir of Blood."

But again the sphinx shook her broad, flat head in sorrow, clicking her tongue at him. "Incorrect," she informed him simply, and ushered him through another door; this time, into darkness.

Karl wandered through shadows and twisting tunnels, alone. There was no presence that walked beside him, only hollowness. In the darkness he felt as though he were walking through the fabric of his dreams, where he had met the strange man so many times before, the man he somehow knew was the key to his whole life. He'd not thought of him in awhile, but the memory was returning; that voice, young like his own but sure and confident, his skin beneath Karl's fingers, his arms wrapped comfortingly around Karl's shoulders. What had that man called him? Friend, confidant, lover perhaps. Never his name. Never his full name. Never the name his soul answered to.

He sobbed, desolate and broken, and then something was with him; a horrible presence, not the comforting aura of his imaginary friend. _We are not Karl Vates,_ it hissed, and Karl's insides froze with the ice and hate that poured in. He loathed this voice more than all others because it loathed him, and because it _was_ him, speaking from the darkest recesses of his mind. _We are strong. We are many. But the many are one and the one is not you. It is_ me.

Something in Karl broke and so did the darkness as his phone buzzed; shaking off the bad thoughts he opened it, hoping to see Egbert's familiar blue text. Instead, what he got was radioactive waste green.

GG: gog, karl, haven't you gotten it _yet?_  
GG: really, it's so simple, and you already know the answer!   
AG: THEN WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME WHAT IT IS?   
GG: oh, i can't do that! only jawwhn is allowed to tell you. it's a rule.

Karl shut his phone again, snarling, and continued on, the throbbing in his ankle returning.

And then he approached the dais, for the third and final time. There was no panic now, no fear, not even as the sphinx opened its jaw to deliver the question a third time. Calm overtook him, and he felt almost drugged, like his body was not his own; lethargic, a stupor seizing him.

"Wait!" Karl commanded, and the sphinx paused. "Before I answer, tell me-- did a girl come through here with a dragon?"

"Yes," the sphinx replied, bowing its head. "She did."

"And did she get it right? Is she alive?"

Another nod. "Yes, she did." After a pause, she added, "And on the first try."

Karl took a long, harsh, rattling breath and closed his eyes. "Then I'm ready."

For the third and final time, the sphinx spoke. "Boy, who _are_ you?"

And Karl answered, "You were wrong. I _am_ Karl Vates. But I'm other things too. I can remember them sometimes, when I sleep or when things feel wrong, and I know that they're there, inside of me. But right now? Right now, I'm Karl Vates. And I'd like to stay that way a little longer, if that's perfectly fucking alright with you."

The sphinx was silent for a long moment, watching him, her lion's tail thrashing wildly-- and then she bowed to him and stepped aside, revealing the tenth door that had waited behind her, unseen. "One day, you will awaken," she told him, sounding unfathomably sad. "I pray that when that day comes, Karl Vates dies a swift and just death." Then no more was said and Karl glared at her as he stomped past. Through the last door was another circular room, but one whose diameter was much wider and whose height was much more spectacular; the tower he'd seen before, rising up towards the gate. There were stairs around the circumference, cracking and crumbling but that would bear their weight to the top, and windows near the summit that let in the howling wind and cold, bitter rain.

Teri was sitting on a fallen slab of stone, her chin in her hands and a bored look on her face, but she looked up towards him when Lemonsnout did, scornful. "What took you so long?"

"Finding myself," Karl sighed, and without a backward glance he started climbing. Outside, it began to rain.

\---

 _"Who am I?" you ask, blinking, and then your smile grows to split your face in half, wide and powerful as a river. "Why, that's a silly question! Who else would I be but me?"_

 _The sphinx smiles back, warmly, and gives your forehead a motherly lick, ushering you towards the door with one paw. "Good enough."_

 _\---_

 _  
_Today you will kill him. Today is the day. You had hope for awhile that somehow, some way, you would be allowed to spare him, that he would come to his senses, that this session would end in anything but bloodshed._   
_

_Given your track record, you really should have known better._

 _Grimly, you heft the sickle and step forward as lightning cracks overhead. The Denizen is dead, the Black Queen fallen, and all he can think on is his loss, the aching hole in his heart. And the worst part is that you understand, you really do. You understand about heartache and missing those who are gone, of yearning for something you know you will never touch again, some secret hidden bliss that will elude you for the rest of your days. But you also understand about fate, now, and destiny, and hate and love and revenge, and the voices in your head are screaming that there must be an end to this. The voices are few, yet, but there will be more next time, and more bodies, and their blood will all be on your hands._

 _Another figure approaches as you prepare to mount the staircase, to travel through the next and final gate, where you will face your foe. Moirail, once. Friend, confidant, lover. You need to separate these things from the truth, which is that everything will shatter into pain and nothingness if you do not do this. (You think of John, and the world he will never see, and the blood boils in your veins.) The man wears a cape in deep purple to match his blood, and gaudy rings, and you sneer at him, once disdainful backward glance, devoid of hate. All your ichor belongs to another, now._

 _"I want to help, Kar," he tells you in a tone that very clearly means he_ will _help whether you like it or not, and you show him your teeth again, unimpressed._

 _"Give me one good reason I should let you have a second chance, fuckass," you snarl, brows drawn together in an angry scowl as you tighten your grip over the handle of the sickle. Your hands are calloused, skin thick and rough from years of wielding the weapon, but it still feels odd and uncomfortable in your hand, unnatural in a way that confounds you. "You were supposed to watch him, and you fucked up, so now I have to clean up your goddamn mess. Do you think this is fun for me? It's not. But I'm the leader, and I have to protect them, and you, and I can do that without the assistance of a grubfucking moron who still thinks magic isn't real."_

 _The Prince shakes his head at you ruefully, frowning, his shredded scarf flying in tatters in the sudden wind. A storm is coming, stirring the sea. "He's my kismesis. It's none of your business."_

 _"And you are the proud owner of a delusional, diseased thinkpan so rotted by loneliness that you actually think he'd touch you if you paid him," you snap, and take another step, turning away from him._

 _It is at this point that you feel the tip of a wand digging into your back, just between your shoulderblades, and you know that it is over. "Please," he says, and what gets you is that even though he could murder you where you stand right now and no one would know, even though he holds the power here, his voice is a little broken, a little pleading, because what he wants is acceptance, and you were once his friend. "One more chance, Kar. That's all I want. This time I can kill him, I know I can. And if I fail, you'll be right there."_

 _You take a deep breath and close your eyes, remembering. You remember the blood, and the pain, and glassy eyes and a failed machine and more death and more blood and back and back into someone else's memories, of someplace cold and sterile and a hatred scorned and so many things, and you cannot deny him, because the voices are still whispering,_ It's over _._ _And you know that it is. One day, you will have your revenge, and it will be sweet. For now, you will let Eridan have his turn._

 _"Fine," you say, turning back to him and affixing your most grimly terrifying look to your features, "but... fuck. If you fuck this up, I'll hit you so far into next week you'll be coughing up Tuesday."_

 _He grins, and a shiver would run down your spine if you weren't already scared shitless of what the future holds. "I think I can live with that."  
_  
\---

AA: did you deliver it then?   
TG: yeah and good fucking riddance to it  
TG: thing was damn freaky  
TG: some serious telltale heart bullshit up in there  
TG: and i still have no idea what the hell she even wanted it for   
AA: i wouldnt worry too much about it dave  
AA: youll benefit in the end   
TG: whatever  
TG: i dont understand why every conversation we have has to consist entirely of cagey bullshit  
TG: time bros before hos man   
AA: its just how it works im afraid  
AA: if i tell you whats coming you wont do it!   
TG: thats fucking retarded of course i will  
TG: i know what happens when you ignore important shit like that   
AA: its not that i dont trust you  
AA: but no you wouldnt  
AA: i must confess that this scenario is one ive never seen before given the singular nature of this session  
AA: but thats why we need to remove all variables  
AA: everything has to go according to plan   
TG: why do i feel like this is some serious fucking foreshadowing youre throwing down on me here  
TG: like the gogdamned dramatic thunderstorm on the horizon  
TG: or someone saying this cant get worse  
TG: fuck dude batten the hatches  
TG: category five shitstorm coming in from the west   
AA: you just have to be calm dave  
AA: theres a reward for you at the end of it  
AA: something youve always wanted  
AA: for now just follow my instructions and everything will be fine  
AA: probably   
TG: fuck alright  
TG: what do you need now  
TG: if you mention anything about organ trafficking again i will flip my shit so hard ill do cartwheels right off the fucking astral plane  
TG: i will fly so far off the handle theyll be able to see me clear on the other end of paradox space   
AA: haha no!  
AA: this is something youll want to do  
AA: i need you to keep contacting terezi   
TG: yeah not like thats any huge damn hardship except for the part where shes crazy and lalonde is all over me to help with her bullshit project and i dont have a fucking second to myself  
TG: but why do you care now that i woke her up  
TG: or is that another one of those mysteries of the universe my body isnt ready for   
AA: i can no longer interact directly with this session  
AA: not until the time is right as it were  
AA: and while your cohorts are awake as well you are the best and most stable choice of a permanent envoy  
AA: john at least is imminently clueless and must by necessity remain that way   
TG: yeah hes a little derp even with fangs and a spade on his shirtsleeves   
AA: but so are you dave!   
TG: what a derp  
TG: i take offense to that   
AA: no clueless  
AA: but thats okay  
AA: to tell the truth none of us really know all of whats happening i think  
AA: we all have different pieces but the puzzle wont be complete until skaia   
TG: what are you up to anyway   
AA: starting some sick fires   
TG: haha really   
AA: literally

\---

 _The mighty huntress stalks her purrey..._

Karl wasn't immediately aware of regaining consciousness, only that at some point it had happened, and now he was standing in a field in what appeared to be a mountain valley, cool wind ruffling his hair and playing across his face. Mountains surrounded them on all sides, sometimes far off by the horizon and sometimes within comfortable walking distance, corralling them into an area that looked about a hundred miles square, maybe more or less. They stood on a hill, one of many, with a few trees here and there, surveying a land that sloped downward, the carpet of long, swaying grass endless and unbroken. Once, when Karl had been small, his father had taken a 'business trip' to Montana and sent him back a postcard-- it had looked uncannily like this.

Teri was still with him, as was her dragon, but there was something wrong with the both of them, it seemed; Teri's normal, semi-permanent grin had been replaced by a slight frown as she stood by her steed's side and stroked its neck. The dragon's scales seemed dull, no longer glimmering cheerfully in the sunlight, the color of burnished brass instead of gold, and when it exhaled a puff of ash fell to the four winds, scattering.

"Nell's supposed to be here, huh?" Karl asked after a moment, kicking awkwardly at a stray rock and watching it bounce and skitter down the hill, transfixed and wanting to avoid meeting the condemning glare of Teri's scarlet glasses. His human companion shrugged, noncommittal.

"That's what she said. I don't think she would have gone on without us."

"You sure about that?"

Teri frowned harder, sparing him a sightless glance over her shoulder. "No. Maybe you'd better check." Karl pulled up pesterchum and his expression darkened, some deep and instinctive sense of foreboding settling in his chest as he perused his chumroll, fingers slipping clumsily over the touch screen.

"She's not online," he said, and his voice sounded weak even to him. "Neither is Earl."

"And Daevid isn't answering me either," she told him, a twinge of frustration marring her otherwise flat and careless tone. Karl looked up, and saw that she'd moved away from the dragon, standing with arms akimbo as the wind blew through her short hair, fanning it out behind her and catching on her clothes. Karl had always found it difficult to judge her thoughts and emotions, even before she'd gone blind and the glasses had hidden that particular window to her soul from him forever, but now it was nigh on impossible except when she was particularly perturbed. Nevertheless, it seemed painfully obvious to him that she was upset, from the firm line her mouth had formed, lips persed, to the slight crease in her forehead.

"Is that bad?" he drawled, something deep and instinctive sparking in him. Of course if Teri was upset it would be that smug bastard's fault.

"It's... unusual," she told him, and turned away, the dragon wrapping its tail around her legs and drawing her in again, giving Karl a look that could only be described as 'disgusted'. Karl stuck his tongue out at it and went back to examining his phone, pretending not to listen as Teri went on. "I mean, how would you feel if yours just suddenly started ignoring you? They talk about fate and destiny and all of it's bullshit, really." Now she sounded disgusted, too. "They start showing you things and then you wake up and you can't tell what's real anymore and they don't even have the decency to stick around and explain."

Karl, only half paying attention, shrugged. "What do you mean _if_ he was ignoring me?"

There was the rustle of clothing from behind him, and though Karl refused to look, he knew that Teri was staring at him again-- or at least pointing those sightless, intense eyes in his direction. "Come again?"

"You mean Egbert, right? Yeah. I tell you what, I've had fucking enough of asshole trolls and their emotionally manipulative fuckwittery. All of them can just go and have a little orgy by themselves if they want to, for all I care." By the end of this declaration Karl was snarling and mashing buttons harshly, rage and humiliation filling him. It was hard to know what to believe anymore, with Egbert telling him things and then refusing to talk about them, and the worst part was that Karl cared. He cared a lot. He didn't know the how or why of it, but from the moment SBURB had taken him, he'd felt a pull towards something he couldn't explain, something far off and distant that wanted him, waited for him, and he hadn't been able to touch it until Jawwhn had told him that he loved him. Facetious or not, that conversation had wormed its way into Karl's brain and refused to leave, and now the thought that it had been just a joke was...

Karl didn't know what it was, because surely he wasn't a homosexual and surely he did not return such feelings, could not return them. But the idea of such a slight, of being so repulsive a failure that even internet trolls mocked him with it, was enough to make him flush angrily.

But Teri wasn't having any of it. "What did he tell you?" she asked, voice suddenly soft and as deadly serious as a knife sliding against his throat. "Karl, what happened?"

"Nothing happened," Karl spat, cursing as he hit the wrong button and the chat window Egbert had initiated popped up; there was his own familiar steel gray text, and the electric blue of the man he couldn't decide his feelings for (though anger was winning out at the moment), and he nearly threw the phone down the hill before remembering that he had no way of procuring another one. "He just... fuck. He told me he loved me, okay? Whatever, it was just a dumb joke, it's not like I give a fuck. What'd yours tell you before he went AWOL?"

Teri hesitated, and her words were almost uncertain when they came. "Do you ever have dreams, Karl? About... someone you've never met, but who you've known your whole life?"

It took a moment for that question to sink in, and when it did, Karl was struck dumb. That was alright, though, because a second later he was struck from behind by a moving projectile, a yowl of triumph echoing as he collapsed forward with a thump. Karl gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, listening to Teri's demands to be informed of what was happening, two clawed hands pressing into the back of his shoulders as something that appeared to be bipedal straddled him.

"Got you, Karkitty!" his assailant crowed, and Karl groaned, hitting his head against the soft earth a few times without looking up. "I bet you were so surpurrised, right?"

"Nell you little psychopath, if you don't get off of me in the next five seconds I will destroy everything that you have ever loved," Karl told her, still speaking into the dirt as he arched his back to try and throw her off, to no avail; she only giggled madly and dug her claws in harder, riding him like the proverbial mechanical bull.

"You wouldn't dare!" she said smugly, and Karl could practically _feel_ her grinning as Teri cackled madly in the background; at least this spectacle should improve her mood, if nothing else. "Anyway, if you do, Earl will be sooooo mad at you when I tell him."

Karl blanched at the thought of that and tensed involuntarily, his back going rigid beneath Nell's slight frame. "Fuck," he muttered, thinking of Earl's three state high school wrestling championship belts and the memory of several gym classes spent spotting him as he did sets of fifty cleans with over two hundred pounds on the bar without even breaking a sweat. Not that he would have hurt Nell, anyway-- she was his friend, and mostly harmless even if she was annoying as all get-out --but if Earl even suspected that he'd looked at her funny, he'd be desperately attempting to set a broken nose with some bark and strips torn off his shirt before he knew it. "Fine," he growled, getting his hands under himself and pushing his shoulders up so that Nell lost her balance and toppled over backwards, squawking as she was taken off guard. "But no more tackling, okay? I have enough problems without deranged, rabid catgirls practicing their hunting techniques on me at all hours."

"O _kaaaay_ ," Nell sighed, disappointed, as they both picked themselves up and brushed off their clothing. Now afforded an opportunity to observe her for the first time since entering the game, Karl surreptitiously looked her over. Nell looked fine and in good health for the most part, which wasn't surprising; of all of them, she'd probably started off as the second most prepared for the rigors of the game. She and Earl had grown up in the bad part of town, where weeds choked the streets and sidewalks and thugs pushed crack cocaine in every alley and shadowed place, and they'd both grown tough to deal with it. If you were a girl and wanted to go out at night, particularly, you had to be. It wasn't possible to see given that her olive green, patchwork trench coat covered them well, but her arms were ropey and well muscled, and when her shirt rode up you could see a flash of her well-toned abs-- Nell had a better six pack than most of the guys Karl knew.

"But I have to purractice, you know!" she went on, pouting slightly, pushing her glossy black hair out of her eyes and readjusting the cat-eared hat that she wore perpetually, regardless of the season or whether or not it was upwards of a hundred degrees out. "I'm already getting rusty, and there aren't any more imps to play with!"

"Well, don't practice on Karl," Teri huffed, still grinning. "He's already got his panties in a twist over his little internet _boyfriend_."

"Goddamn it, can't I tell either of you anything in confidence? And I never said he was my boyfriend, fuck! I don't even like him that way!"

"But you do like him?" Teri asked, raising an eyebrow up over the rim of her sunglasses.

Karl blushed bright red as Nell giggled again, hiding her wide smile behind one gloved "paw". "That wasn't what I meant! I fucking hate that cryptic little sack of shit!"

"Karl is having some romantic difficulties," Teri informed Nell, choosing to ignore Karl's blustering, for which he punished her by snarling, "Well, I'm not the only one. What about yours, huh? Did he finally get tired of his little pet cartoonist?" Scowling, Karl made his voice high and nasty in a pale but obvious imitation of Teri's voice; " _Oh, Karl, please hold me while I cry into your shoulder over some asshole I met through the internet. Though I only knew him for but a year, he ripped my bleeding heart from my chest and now how shall I ever live without his diatribes on irony and his shitty comics that don't go anywhere but straight to the loony bin?_ "

Teri scowled back at him and opened her mouth to retort, but before she could Nell was between them, looking up at  Karl with concern. "That's not very nice, Karl!" she protested, socking him lightly in the shoulder; it hurt more than it should have, and Karl saw that her gloves had acquired metal points, the claws he'd felt scratching at his back before. "Teri and TG have a very special relationship that is impawsible for us to understand! It's fate!"

Karl scoffed. "You sound like a goddamn romance novel. All we need are some bodices ripping and Earl to show up with his hair flowing magnificently in the summer breeze and we'll be set. Where the fuck is he, anyway?"

"That's why I need to purractice my pouncing!" Nell said, distracted and looking worried, while Teri glowered at him as though she'd like nothing more than to meticulously take him apart to find the evil that lurked in his soul, polluting him. "And why I came to find you guys, actually!"

"What happened?" Teri demanded, putting her venom aside for a moment and walking over to Nell. Nevertheless, Karl wasn't quite fast enough to leap out of the way of her cane as she passed him, and it smacked into the backs of his thighs with a loud crack and a howl of pain that everyone summarily ignored, save for Nell patting him consolingly on the shoulder.

"I think we should get moving before I tell you," Nell said as Teri hooked her arm around Karl's elbow hard enough to crush it and pulled him fully upright again, close enough that he could feel the malevolence wafting off her in waves. "It's dangerous to stay out in the open for too long!"

"Nell, everywhere is 'in the open'," Karl groused, attempting to inch away from Teri and failing spectacularly.

"Well, okay, but it's still not good to stay in one place! Teri's dragon is purretty conspicuous. I don't want anyone else getting hurt!"

Now Teri managed to look merely concerned again instead of murderous. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't worry!" Nell said cheerfully, skipping over to Lemonsnout and examining his injured flank. "You won't need to exact any justice, I don't think. They purretty much just tied him up and ran off with him. I think he'll be fine. Say, can your dragon still walk? I bet he'd be tasty grilled with a little barbecue sauce, if we have to put him out of his misery!"

"We're not eating Senator Lemonsnout!"

"I don't know, Teri, he looks hurt pretty bad. Isn't it better than letting him suffer?"

"No one. Is eating. My. _Dragon!_ "

"Wait, wait, wait," Karl demanded, managing to extract himself from Teri's grip at last before she could march over to Nell and give her a piece of her mind in the form of drubbings with the cane. "Hold the phone for one fucking minute. _Who took Earl?_ "

"Oh," Nell sighed, impatient, looking up at Karl with pity, as though that were the stupidest question she'd ever heard. "Why, the centaurs of course!"

\---

"So, explain to me how the fuck this happened," Karl said once the matter of the dragon had been settled and Teri was walking a few paces behind them, reins in hand and muttering darkly, as they crossed the plains. "You showed up and found Earl and killed imps for awhile and then...?"

Nell cocked her head to the side, stuffing her hands in the deep pockets of her coat, eyes gazing out at the mountains beyond without really seeing. "I don't know. We stopped to make a fire and cook one of the deer I caught-- there are totally deer here, by the way! Earl alchemized some tortillas and we had venison tacos, it was purretty delicious --and I took a catnap. He was supposed to stand guard, but when the centaurs showed up he was just too overcome by seeing something out of his fantasy movies, I guess, and they took him away!"

Karl frowned. "Why didn't they take you, too?"

"No clue!" Nell informed him happily, skipping up another hillside as Karl struggled to keep up. "Maybe they just weren't interested in adorable kitties."

"Well, that doesn't make any fucking sense. You'd think they'd go for the easy target, wouldn't you? I mean, no offense or anything, but if my choices were between fighting Earl and fighting you, I'd go with the person who _couldn't_ snap my arm like a twig, thanks."

It was at this point that, coming down the other side of the hill again, Karl became aware of a rhythmic pounding noise, like thunder or rocks being shaken in a drum. He paused and it intensified, the ground rolling with it. "Do you guys hear that too?" Teri asked, marching up to stand beside them again as Karl paused, trying to look over the horizon. They were in a valley now, surrounded by shallow hills and undulations of earth, and Karl was suddenly certain that this had been a tactical error of the highest caliber. "I think something's coming."

"You're right," Nell hissed, crouching back, her claws and teeth bared; Karl fancied that if she'd actually been a cat, the blue tail hanging from the back of her coat would have puffed up in alarm. "This is what it sounded like before--"

Then the noise became deafening and drowned out her words as the first shapes began rolling down the hill before them. No less than twenty centaurs, each carrying a spear or bow, barreled towards them, their naked chests gleaming in the sunlight. More came from all sides and Karl pressed in towards Teri and Nell, his heart racing as he raised his hammer, knowing that it would do no good. He moved until he felt his back hit the solid, warm wall of the dragon behind him; Lemonsnout was revitalized now, his serpentine head raised as he screeched, spewing fire that rained down, sparks and embers showering them and falling in Karl's hair where they died inelegant deaths.

The centaurs were not deterred but kept on coming, their lance points down, arrows drawn, and somehow, ridiculously, Karl thought, as he had not for awhile, of the boy in his dreams, the one he would never get to meet. Closing his eyes, Karl wrapped his free arm around Teri's waist, bile rising in his throat. He was just a kid, really, and this wasn't fair. And the thought that ruled his mind was, _Will you be waiting for me on the other side, when I die?_

He stood that way for a long time, braced for impact, and after awhile Teri rapped his knuckles with her cane, whispering, "Karl. Look." He did, warily, and found that the centaurs had formed a circle around them, standing still and perfect as statues, their spears leveled at the small party of three humans and one dragon.

One centaur broke from the ranks of the herd and stepped forward imperiously. He carried no weapon but a bow slung over his shoulder, strung but not drawn, and he extended a hand towards Karl. "You will come," he said, in a voice as deep as the ocean, that reverberated through Karl's bones and told him that this man spoke the truth, unequivocally. It was not a request, or even a demand. It was a statement, a prophecy that by its definition would be fulfilled.

Karl could do nothing but follow.

\---

They rode on the backs of the centaurs, unsteady without saddles, fast over countryside that flattened out completely after a time, passing nothing but grass and rocks and, now and then, a tree. The dragon followed at an awkward and ungainly gallop, barely managing to keep up, doggedly trailing the centaur that Teri rode, never letting her leave its sight. Their journey terminated in a low valley, a depression in the land, where a smattering of tents had been pitched and fires lit. From a distance Karl could hear people talking and laughing, music playing, the rush of hooves stomping over well-trod ground, but they were lead not towards the village center but a bit away to a fenced-in patch and through the gate. Karl got down on shaky legs as the centaur knelt down, and then his mount pushed him towards the center of the holding pen. "Wait," he was commanded, and then they were left alone, more or less.

Nell gave a happy squeal and scrambled off towards the one bit of shade, where Karl saw that Earl sat, cross-legged, a sheen of sweat slicking his bronze skin. He looked up at them at the noise, and did not so much as smile, but when Nell launched herself into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck, mock-purring happily, the corner of his mouth twitched up for a fraction of a second. "Are you alright?" Karl called, leaning against a fence post, and Earl nodded, his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

"I'm fine. I'm glad that you and Nell are all alright."

Teri frowned again, in his general direction. "So they didn't hurt you? Then what the hell did they want?"

"I've no idea. They refused to speak with me until you arrived." Earl frowned as well, and deeply, carefully returning Nell's persistent embrace. "I believe they wished to use Nell and I as bait to lure you here."

"Well, I guess it fucking worked, then, didn't it?" Karl growled, angry, as Teri set about examining Lemonsnout's wound. It seemed like a bad idea to try and escape, so Karl settled back and decided to check his messages to see if some stupid fuckass had pestered him while he'd been busy. And they had!

But it was the wrong one.

  
\-- timetechGodhead [TG] began trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at ??:?? ! --

TG: sup fuckstain   
AG: OH, SO YOU'LL TALK TO ME NOW BUT NOT TERI? WHAT THE FUCK.  
AG: I'D COMMENT ON HOW RUDE AND UTTERLY BATSHIT BAFFLING YOUR ACTIONS ARE BUT I DON'T THINK THAT WOULD GET ME ANYWHERE AT THIS POINT.  
AG: SO LET ME JUST BE THE FIRST TO INFORM YOU THAT IF YOU BREAK UP WITH HER AND SHE STARTS CRYING AND NELL HAS TO DEAL WITH IT WHILE I SIT HERE LIKE A LOBOTOMY PATIENT WAITING FOR THE SHITSTORM TO BLOW OVER, I WILL PERSONALLY DECAPITATE YOU AND FEED YOUR ENTRAILS TO THE IMPS.   
TG: wait what  
TG: i always talk to gc bro what is your problem  
TG: our shit is so cash you don't even know   
AG: WELL I DO KNOW THAT SHE'S OVER THERE WITH HER MAGICAL FUCKING DRAGON SULKING BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T PESTERED HER BACK IN LIKE TWO HOURS AND I GUESS THAT'S TROUBLING FOR SOME REASON PROBABLY RELATED TO THE FACT THAT THE TWO OF YOU ARE LIKE SIAMESE TWINS JOINED AT THE INTERNET CONNECTION OR SOMETHING.  
AG: IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU BROKE UP WITH HER.  
AG: WHICH I LEGITIMATELY WOULD NOT GIVE A GODDAMN FUCK ABOUT EXCEPT I NEED EVERYONE TO HAVE ALL OF WHATEVER PATHETIC MENTAL FACULTIES THEY POSSESS ABOUT THEM GOING INTO THE REST OF THIS NIGHTMARE.   
TG: uh  
TG: the phrase that comes to mind is what the fucking shit are you talking about  
FTG: oh my gog is this seriously what i sound like

\-- Future timetechGodhead [FTG] began trolling timetechGodhead [TG] and abysmalGuardian [AG] at 00:00 ! --

FTG: wait what am i saying of course it is  
FTG: gog forbid i use one nanometer of discretion or fucking judgement  
FTG: or you know my brain  
TG: what the fuck  
FTG: okay you get to shut up now  
FTG: mr i am inexplicably forgetting about the existance of weird time shit  
FTG: didnt aradia already tell you youre supposed to keep these chats linear  
FTG: maybe that came later  
FTG: actually yeah no this was the catalyst for that  
FTG: because and i repeat you are a fucking moron  
TG: no really what the shit are you talking about  
FTG: this is why no one respects us and our awesome time powers you realize  
FTG: lalonde and megido playing us against both sides like some crazy interstellar version of spy vs spy  
FTG: whole universes shattered as collateral damage  
FTG: fucking flighty broads always up in our shit like were some redshirt extra  
FTG: oh dave died  
FTG: thats chill  
FTG: just go get another one  
FTG: well fuck you  
TG: oh fuck are we really doing this thing  
TG: this self kismesisitude thing  
TG: i am not okay with this  
TG: this is the least ironic fucking thing  
FTG: bitch who do you think i am  
FTG: i am not the karkat  
FTG: it is not me  
TG: not  
TG: okay  
TG: with  
TG: this  
FTG: i think its time for you to fuck off now  
FTG: the adults are talking  
FTG: or the mildly retarded kid and the hyperdimensional god being are talking  
FTG: same difference

\-- Future timetechGodhead [FTG] blocked timetechGodhead [TG] ! --

FTG: there  
FTG: now that that chucklefuck is gone we can have a real conversation   
AG: OH FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET CHRIST ON A CRACKER WHAT THE SHIT JUST HAPPENED.   
FTG: doesnt matter   
AG: NO, REALLY. EXPLAIN.   
FTG: explaining is egberts bag  
FTG: anyway i dont have time for this nonsense  
FTG: that was a joke by the way  
FTG: i could do this all day if i wanted and it wouldnt even count  
FTG: you on the other hand need to get your ass in gear   
AG: YEAH, PEOPLE KEEP TELLING ME THAT. AND I KEEP TELLING THEM TO FUCK OFF.  
AG: WHAT THE FUCK WAS YOUR POINT IN ALL THIS, ANYWAY?   
FTG: i dont know  
FTG: keeping the timeline stable  
FTG: even though it hasnt happened for you yet i was aware that this conversation had to happen at some point  
FTG: well not some point  
FTG: this point  
FTG: precisely   
AG: SO YOU'RE, WHAT. THE WHITE KNIGHT OF TIME?   
FTG: yeah i used to be  
FTG: then i was a butler for awhile  
FTG: everything has a different function  
FTG: knights are the soliders on the front lines  
FTG: butlers and maids serve  
FTG: and clean up messes  
FTG: messes that no one else is equipped to deal with   
AG: SO, OKAY, LET'S PRETEND THIS ISN'T BARKING AT THE MOON LUNACY. WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?   
FTG: youre the heir this time around right   
AG: YEAH. HEIR OF BLOOD.   
FTG: thats a bad road to walk  
FTG: but there are worse paths to follow  
FTG: and ill tell you something out of the fucking goodness of my heart  
FTG: youre going to do alright   
AG: WOW, WAY TO NOT ANSWER A SINGLE FUCKING ONE OF MY QUESTIONS.   
FTG: haha  
FTG: sorry bro thats how it works  
FTG: anyway look i want you to tell tz something   
AG: CAN'T YOU JUST FUCKING TELL HER YOURSELF? I DON'T WANT TO COPY-PASTE MY EARLIER COMMENT, BUT IF YOU'RE FROM THE FUTURE YOU CAN PROBABLY REMEMBER HER BEING PRETTY BROKEN UP ABOUT YOUR SUDDEN VOW OF SILENCE.   
FTG: yeah i remember  
FTG: the past me you were talking to was a trolling asshole  
FTG: that was the first time he ever contacted you  
FTG: the past me that wont answer tz is busy   
AG: YOU MEAN LIKE EGBERT IS? ARE THEY WORKING ON THE SAME PROJECT?   
FTG: i cant answer that  
FTG: but yeah kind of  
FTG: anyway keeping interactions linear is important   
AG: SO 'CURRENT' YOU CAN'T TALK TO HER. FINE. WHATEVER. CAN'T _YOU_ YOU?   
FTG: i could but then youd be in a doomed timeline  
FTG: there are enough of those cropping up already for me to deal with without voluntarily making it worse  
FTG: so youre going to help me stabilize a time loop okay   
AG: OKAY JESUS WHATEVER.  
AG: I JUST WANT TO NOT BE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION ANYMORE. IT'S GIVING ME A HEADACHE.   
FTG: message goes like this  
FTG: justice will be served  
FTG: like you said the universe eats paradoxes for breakfast  
FTG: end message   
AG: IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN ANYTHING?   
FTG: ask her  
FTG: she might not tell you  
FTG: you dont know who you are yet   
AG: AND SHE DOES?   
FTG: cant say  
FTG: not my business to either  
FTG: anyway you have to go  
FTG: just tell her

\-- Future timetechGodhead [FTG] ceased trolling abysmalGuardian [AG] at 00:00 ! --

Karl closed his phone and looked up at approximately the same time as their small party was approached by a buff palomino centaur, a ceremonial spear slung over his shoulder. "The high one will see you now," he intoned, harsh blue eyes staring into Karl's, severely holding his gaze; eye contact was not broken even as Teri made to slide off the dragon's back. "Not you," he snapped, tossing his head at Karl. "Only this one."

Nell watched him worriedly as he stood on shaking legs and moved towards the centaur, and Teri shrugged at him, settling back again. "Good luck," the catgirl whispered, biting her bottom lip as Earl placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and the centaur draped an arm over Karl's back and ushered him out of the holding pen, towards the circle of small fires. The scent of smoking meat assaulted Karl's senses as he stumbled forward through the tent-filled clearing and out into a grassy patch of emptiness occupied by a small pond with an ancient ash tree growing on its bank. Under the tree an older centaur knelt, his beard combed and braided, his head smooth and bald. As they approached this centaur too met his eye and nodded at the other, who left them, his hooves clomping in the dust as he moved away from them.

Silence reigned for a long moment as Karl listened to the whistle and whisper of the wind through the tree, between its leaves and over its branches, bending and twisting boughs. It was old enough to have several galls, places where the branches had rubbed together enough that they'd fused, and it was weathered and bent, the tips of its lowest leaves brushing against the glassy and mirror-still surface of the pond.

"Welcome, boy," the centaur croaked, patting the expanse of wide, flat rock on which he knelt, beckoning Karl closer; he obeyed unconsciously, legs moving before his brain had a chance to tell them to, enraptured. For an instant, Karl fancied that he could taste magic on the air. "I must thank you for obeying my summons in such a timely manner."

"You kidnapped Earl," Karl growled, sitting cross-legged a few feet from the centaur, arms folded defensively over his chest as he scowled.

"Yes."

Nothing more seemed forthcoming so, puzzled, Karl continued. "Well, what else was I supposed to have done?"

"Gone on without him. One who was concerned with the future of his race would have." The centaur smiled, and his face seemed kindly now, features as weathered as the tree and as craggy as the mountain peaks that ringed his home. "I am glad that you did not. There is much we must discuss." Before Karl could speak again the centaur was leaning towards the pool, scooping up a handful of clear, cold water and bringing it to his lips, drinking it down. "Drink," he commanded, pointing to the water. "It will clear your mind, and prepare you for what is to come."

Suspicious, but mildly thirsty and knowing that the conversation could not advance if he refused point-blank to participate, Karl copied the centaur's movements. Plunging his hands into the water was like sticking them into solid ice, or the heart of a dying star; the sensation was intense and immediate and he cried out despite himself, quickly bringing a handful up to his lips. Most of it ran out his trembling fingers but a few drops rolled down his tongue and that was enough, it seemed, because the centaur appeared satisfied. As Karl balled his hands to fists and shoved them in his lap, desperately trying to warm the numb and tingling skin, he gestured towards the pool again, and asked, "Now, what do you see?"

"Stars," Karl answered instinctively, and it was true-- he did. The sky the pool reflected was not the sky of this place, so clear and blue and full of clouds like puffs of cotton; this sky was dark as ink, and far distant nebulae swirled in its unplumbed depths, points of light hanging inscrutable, uncountable millions of miles away. "But they're the _wrong_ stars." And he frowned, because he hadn't meant to say that, either, even if it was true. "They're--"

"The stars you made, once," the centaur told him, and waved his hand over the pool. The image rippled and when the water was still again, Karl could see that something had changed. "And now?"

Karl leaned over the edge of the pool, searching for any reflection; now the sky was right, but when he looked down at himself he was met by the image of a boy of about thirteen, with dorky, square-rimmed glasses and ugly buck teeth that jutted out over his bottom lip. The boy was smiling. "I don't know," Karl whispered, suddenly entranced. There was something so familiar about this boy, something that he couldn't put his finger on that made his heart pound thick and heavy and skip a beat, that filled his brain with unpleasant fog and made something prick at the corners of his eyes, which was stupid.

"Once this was Mimir's well," the centaur said, but Karl could barely hear him, still enthralled by the image reflected. "It has always existed, much as Skaia has always existed. It is amazing how humans know of these things instinctively; the other cultures to have graced our fair and flighty universe over the eons have as well, even if they did not put words to it."

"What is it?" Karl asked, his voice coming out fierce and almost desperate. "What is this I'm seeing?"

The centaur went on as though he had never spoken. "In the oldest of the myths, three women sat by its side, guarding it, spinning their tales and their thread, speaking the names of men not yet born. Now there is none but me and my people, who have waited for this day. The well is important, but not so important as the man whose image is reflected in it, for that shall show his heart."

"I didn't ask that," Karl growled, suddenly infuriated, and whipped his head up to glare at the centaur again. "I asked what it was, goddamn it! What are you showing me? What fresh torture is this?"

"The Mimir well shows both fate and memory," the centaur told him softly, frowning slightly as he reached out to touch Karl's shoulder; Karl flinched back at the touch of the rough hand, but did not move back, instead staring sullenly up at the beast. "What you are seeing may well be both."

Now Karl closed his eyes, and everything in the world narrowed to the small warmth and weight on his shoulder. "Who are you?" he asked, compelled.

"My name is Aurthour," came the reply. "And I must again thank you properly for coming to save my son."


	7. Sixth Iteration: As Men Sow, Men Reap

_  
AT: i, uHH, i DON'T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THIS,   
GG: don't worry so much, timm!  
GG: you're doing just fine!   
AT: nO BUT, yOU DON'T UNDERSTAND,  
AT: tHIS IS JUST, a LITTLE TOO MUCH, fOR ME,   
GG: don't be such a wriggler.  
GG: i have to go now because bluh bluh timey wimey shit yes tg i get it already.  
GG: but ct is on his way!   
AT: oH, tHAT'S, vERY REASSURING, yES,  
  
_

_\-- ghastlyGentry [GG] ceased trolling apisTemerity [AT] at 23:45 ! --  
_

Your name is Timothy "Timm" Martin, and you are having a very bad day. A very bad week, even. Or month, or year. You might go so far as to say that you are having a very bad eternity, making this but an additional blemish on top of the proverbial shit sundae that is your life, as Karl would put it, but even that doesn't really capture the enormity of how fucked up your life is right now.

Case in point: the fact that you are currently dangling by one foot in the grasp of a huge, hairy monster, staring into beady, watery black eyes and wondering if it was the constant beeping of your phone that got to it or if it just didn't like the cut of your jib.

TC: ChIlL tHe FuCk OuT, mOtHeRfUcKeR.  
TC: YoU gOt ThIs.   
AT: uM, nO, nO, gARY, i REALLY DON'T,  
AT: tHERE IS A, gIANT BULL MONSTER ATTACKING ME,  
AT: tHIS CURRENT SITUATION DOESN'T REALLY, sEEM LIKE, tHE DEFINITION OF 'CHILL',  
AT: tO ME, aNYWAY,   
TC: DoN't FlIp YoUr TiTs, BrOtHeR.  
TC: YoU gOt AnY oF tHe wIcKeD eLiXeR oN yOu?   
AT: i'M, uM, nOT COMFORTABLE GIVING THE CONSORTS ALCOHOL, gARY,  
AT: eVEN IF i HAD ANY ON ME,  
AT: wHICH, i DON'T,   
TC: :O(  
TC: ToO bAd.  
TC: ShIt AlWaYs CaLmS mE dOwN.  
TC: GeTs Me NiCe AnD lOoSe FoR lAyInG dOwN sOmE tRuTh BeAtS, yOu DiG?   
AT: i, i DON'T THINK HE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT, tHE icp,   
TC: ShIt, I dIdN't SaY yOu NeEdEd To GeT yOuR eVaNgElIcAlIzE oN wItH tHe MoThErFuCkEr.  
TC: BuT mUsIc Be SoOtHiNg ThE sAvAgE bEaSt AnD aLl.

The phone continues to beep as the minotaur snorts, growing impatient and fed up, and shakes you roughly, nearly jittering it out of your grasp and almost wrenching your leg straight out of the socket all in one go. When the world stops oscillating for a few seconds, your thoughts have been shaken around enough that you can make a logical connection that somehow escaped both you and your erstwhile stoner companion as the blood was rushing to your head--

AT: dO YOU THINK THAT, mAYBE, yOU COULD DO SOMETHING?  
TC: LiKe WhAt DiD yOu HaVe In MiNd?  
AT: wELL THIS IS OBVIOUSLY JUST A SUGGESTION, bUt, mAYBE YOU COULD PICK UP HIS AXE,  
AT: aND THEN,  
AT: yOU COULD CONSIDER POSSIBLY, pERHAPS, hITTING HIM WITH IT,  
AT: yOU KNOW,  
AT: iF YOU FEEL LIKE IT,  
TC: FuCk, My FiNe BrOtHeR, yOu ShOuLd HaVe SaId.  
TC: I cAn DeFiNiTeLy Be AlL uP aNd DoInG tHaT.

Before you can type another word, before you can think, the minotaur is howling in pain and the steady, crushing pressure around your ankle is relaxed, allowing the forces of gravity to step in again and take over, sending you hurtling towards the ground. You meet said ground inelegantly, like a giant sentient jug of sugary red liquid hitting a brick wall, crack your head on an inarticulately placed rock, and lay there moaning as the cursed consort moves off, sporting a gash in its shoulder and trailing candy red blood.

Your head throbbing, you sit and then stand and then decide that this is too much effort and anyway everything hurts, and lay back again, your phone resting on your rapidly undulating chest as you contemplate the unholy mess you have found yourself in. This game is not Pokemon. It's not even Dungeons & Dragons, which is what you were lead to expect from Nell's excited, hyperactive voice message. You'd been able to hear something roaring in the background, and this should have been the first sign for you to stay away, but you'd be letting Nell down if you didn't at least try, and Solomon _had_ sent you that beta copy for your birthday last year, so wouldn't it be rude not to play it? Of course, so you'd contacted Solomon as directed even though you didn't really know him and still don't and that was awkward ("ii can't beliieve y0u diidn't 2t0p tw0 thiink that maybe ii have more iimp0rtant c0ncern2 riight n0w than c00rdiinatiing every0ne'2 2hiit when ii gave nell a perfectly g00d lii2t 0f 2erver player2") and then you had to deal with Earl and that was even _more_ awkward ( " D--> Such beautiful creatures, i believe i shall require a towel") and now you are on your back in the dust with hot summer sun beating down on you and minotaurs trying to eat you and _holy shit you guys, when do I roll for initiative?_

You are pretty certain that this is not at all related to what you signed on for.

TC: YoU bEsT bE lOoKiN oUt, BrO.  
TC: UnLeSs ThEsE sWeEt-AsS bRoWnIeS i BeEn MuNcHiNg DeCiEvE mE, yOu AbOuT tO hAvE cOmPaNy.  
TC: We TaLkIng GiAnT mOtHeRfUcKiNg DrAgOnS, yO.  
TC: TaLk AbOuT yOuR sToNe CoLd MiRaClEs.

You are also pretty certain that the rest of the world is one hundred percent okay with that.

\---

"Prospit rises in Cancer's gate," Aurthour commented, pointing at a patch of distant stars reflected in the pool. It was high noon, and had been high noon for the last two hours as Karl sat cross-legged on the rock and listened to the centaur ramble.

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" he asked, exasperated, blowing an errant lock of black hair out of his eyes with an irritated puff of hot air. The clearing was oddly silent save for their voices and the rustle of wind in the long grass and the occasional caw of a far off crow, picking at the leavings of dead horses that spoiled and ripened in the perpetual sunlight. "Everything is dying here," Aurthour had said, an hour in, and Karl had believed him; when the wind shifted and became warm and humid, he could smell the rank and sweet scent of rotting flesh somewhere near.

Now Aurthour took a moment to prod at the surface of the well again with one gnarled, weathered finger, the two of them watching distractedly as ripples formed and spread out, lapping at the shore and carrying the old stars with them, leaving in place nothing but unbroken sky. "You asked why I wished to see you and not my son," he went on, and Karl mentally glossed over how weird it was that Earl was apparently descended from a race of horse-men who seemed morally opposed to shirts-- weird, but not altogether surprising. "There is little time, and the Heir must learn."

"Little time? We've been here for hours, and I still have no fucking clue what you wanted me to learn!" Karl bared his teeth in an animalistic snarl, his fingernails gripping his calves hard through his jeans and digging in, hard enough to leave bruises behind unseen.

"Prospit rises in Cancer's gate," the centaur repeated solemnly, and stood. "It is time again for the stars to fall."

There was something in his tone, in the sound of the words, that was like a tomb slamming shut to Karl, like someone dancing on his grave. Mouth dry, he swallowed thickly, throat contracting around dust and sandpaper, and his mouth moved unbidden, lips forming words. "Somebody is going to die."

Aurthour inclined his head. "Yes. By necessity."

"And you're telling me this... why? Just to fuck with me? Put me on edge?" Karl considered something and then added hesitantly, "So I can stop it?"

"You cannot stop it," Aurthour told him ruefully, his eyes sad and old as the sea. "Unless you may hope to turn the wrath of a god onto yourself, instead. Prospit rises, and the Witch's star crosses the plane of Aries, while Sirius sets in the East. This is fate."

Karl cursed and scrabbled to his feet, leaning hostilely towards the monster. "How do you know?"

"No one need tell me; the knowledge is in my bones. And yours as well, if you cared to look." Aurthour sighed, his horse's tail swishing and dragging over the ground in melancholy. "I have watched you all for years, especially my young charge, and always before now it has been the same. But this, too, is fate, that the cycle should be broken." He straightened up fully, then, and waved a dinner plate sized hand at Karl dismissively. "That is all I wished to impart to you, young leader. I hope you have enjoyed this brief respite; it shall be one of your last."

Karl tried to no avail to rouse the centaur into speaking again, first through yelling and then ingratiating whining when his throat grew raw and sore, but nothing could move him out of the contemplative silence he had struck, staring across universes into the pool. Karl wondered vaguely what he saw there, but found himself unable to care as he trudged away at last, back towards where he had left Teri and the others. He was tired, Karl realized as he kicked the gate open again and stalked through, his eyes shadowed and hung with purple bags beneath. The weight of a hundred lifetimes was pressing down on him, driving him down, and he wished for nothing more than to be done, to sleep. He could not afford to, though. Not yet.

After all, Prospit was rising.

\---

The last message he sent you reads as follows: dont wait up for me. At the time, you were perplexed, but now confusion has been swapped for anger and a sort of soul-deep sickness as the tiny screen flickers before you, unseen. You run your fingertips over it, wishing for texture, for the braille of the books you poured over at home. You wish to see the color red again.

You know his text is red, though you have never seen it. He only began to pester you after the accident, a mysterious figure, and you can still remember the first message he ever sent you, too, when you were down on your luck and refused to get out of bed, every day lazy and lackluster and devoid of light or color. You'd hauled your laptop over to rest on the warm, thick blankets pooled on your stomach for just a second, intending to check your email through the voice software your doting, brainless parents had installed and a textbox had popped up.

TG: so what youre just going to give up then  
TG: sit in bed like some coma patient  
TG: oh doctor will i ever be able to play the violin again  
TG: get up t

You'd been offended, hurt beyond measure, and you'd lashed out-- YOU DON'T KNOW 4NYTH1NG 4BOUT M3, 4SSHOL3.

TG: what you think youll never get to be an artist now  
TG: let me tell you something  
TG: art doesnt have to be fancy and perfect  
TG: if it looks like shit just say its ironic  
TG: some dadaist fantasy figure  
TG: thats what i always did  
TG: portrait of the artist with bacon  
TG: i can show you how   
GC: >:|  
GC: SHOW M3?  
GC: H4 FUCK1NG H4 H4.   
TG: tell you then  
TG: whatever  
TG: ill throw down some mad beats and set it to music if you need me to  
TG: but all this awesome excellence coming your way is predicated on you getting out of bed  
TG: coolkids dont throw their lives away over little shit like this   
GC: 1'M BL1ND, YOU TROLL1NG FUCKST1CK. DON'T YOU TH1NK TH4T COUNTS 4S SOM3TH1NG B1G?   
TG: only if you let it

That was before you knew him, but he pestered you and pestered you and refused to go away, and before long you felt that you'd been wrong. You did know him. You'd known him forever, something deep and instinctual, and you'd told Nell because you could always rely on her to take sappy shit like that seriously. And she'd giggled and said that she felt the same way about Karl, that the two of them were destined to know each other in one way or another, and you'd rolled your scarred and sightless eyes behind shades that the teachers no longer griped at you for wearing indoors, because who believes in fate and destiny anymore? This is the twenty-first century.

Well, you certainly believe now.

You take a moment to raise your head, eyes closed-- a pointless gesture, but you find that it helps you focus even now, the symbolic removal of one of the senses, heightening the others --and lean back against Lemonsnout's broad side, listening carefully. Karl is gone, and Nell and Earl are wrapped up in each other, Nell's soft, concerned words blending with his low rumble as they speak of things both private and public, the best best friends that ever were. If you could see, you'd be tempted to throw up in your mouth a little at how sickeningly, platonically adorable they are, Nell with her arms wrapped around his strong chest like a baby koala bear clinging to the trunk of a eucalyptus tree for dear life. They are not paying attention to you, insofar as they have ascertained that you are alright (or, at least, in one piece) and somewhat mentally stable and are not, therefore, a cause of concern, or particularly interesting. Nell is chatting animatedly about some silly vapid thing, and Earl is listening, because that's what he does. He listens, and watches her, and keeps her out of trouble when her impetuous nature leads the tiger just a bit too far down the tree branch, calling her back from the very edge of sanity.

They need each other. Therein lies the difference, you think. They need each other, and you need no one. Is that not the nihilistic essence of being a coolkid? To keep yourself removed, detached, loving no one, because if you give your heart away, show one sincere emotion, you will lose the air of mystery and careful calm you cultivate. Because to have a visible emotion is to be weak. After the accident, you subscribed to this theory fully and with no regrets, because what else was there? Surrounded by friends and family who cooed at you and spoke too softly, handling you with kid gloves like you were a newborn, twisted and wet and broken, until you wanted to scream-- all you wanted was to be strong. To go back to how things were before. And you loved it, this philosophy that left you isolated until you'd pushed everyone away, until even Karl was gone and Nell held you at arm's length for fear of having her hand bitten off; you loved it, because if no one loved you, then there was no one left to hurt.

Now you think it's all a bunch of bullshit, just like everything else he told you, every poisonous lie poured into your ear by thin and pasty lips, every scarlet word typed, spilling over you and mixing with your heart's blood until you beat false, in time with his liar's tongue. He told you that you were special, that you were someone beyond who you are, that there was hope, and then he left you, and you can't tell what's real or what's fake anymore.

 _  
dont wait up for me   
_

_Fuck you_ , you think. _As if I would waste my time on you anymore anyway.  
_  
Then Karl is stomping back over, scowling and confused, a thunderstorm brewing behind his eyes, and the first thing he spits out as he walks past on jerky legs, like a zombie, is, "He told me to tell you that justice will be served. Oh, and some fucking stupid thing about the universe eating paradoxes." And then, as a frustrated afterthought, "I'm not passing any more verbal love notes for you fuckholes, okay? Do your own dirty work from now on."

Suddenly, everything is different, lighter, and you grin again as something stirs within you again, singing the song of thought and memory. And something else, some forgotten, forbidden emotion that you have caged, held back as evil all these months and years. Above you, unseen, a speck of fire burns a trail above the sky, and a third song sets in your breast, trembling, reverberating in resonance with the natural frequency of your soul and you remember that nothing is simple with him, nothing clean-cut. "I hear you loud and clear," you whisper, and you wonder if he can hear you or watch your lips as they move, challenge heard and accepted.

You recall, as if in a dream, that he has hunted you before and fallen short; that he will come again, or try, and when that day comes you must be prepared. And that, more, you can work for it too. "If you can't come to me, I'll come to you."

"You talking to me?" Karl demands as your head lolls back, Lemonsnout's hot breath wafting over your face as a forked, serpentine tongue examines cheeks gone red, and you can't even care that Karl is stupid and high maintenance. He's someone else's problem now. Or will be, anyway, as promised.

It doesn't matter. You have your own promises to keep, as you work towards the day when Terezi Pyrope will ride again.

\---

"So, what's next fur us?" Nell asked, practically bouncing up and down as their motley party made their way towards the gate, escorted by a battery of scowling centaurs. Earl walked proudly beside her, his chest thrown out to display the bow strung over one shoulder, a gift from his consorts, who seemed less overtly murderous than anyone else's had been, beaten into subservience by Aurthour. It was a good bow, an excellent weapon, its stave of polished yew and string of something considerably higher quality than the catgut Karl had used, experimenting with the school archery club's bows. There was something off about it, though, and about the whole business, that Karl was too busy being relieved that they were leaving to properly examine. "Whose world are we going to be exploring next, I mean?"

Karl shrugged one shoulder and looked to Earl, who kept his gaze trained forward on the way ahead, emotionless. "I was paired with Martin as a server player," he informed them, and Nell clapped her paws excitedly, apparently glad to have reason to see one of her roleplaying buddies again. Karl found it difficult to share her enthusiasm. As Nell's friends went, Timm Martin was one of the less offensive, but that didn't mean he was fond of the boy by any stretch of the imagination-- such weak, spineless people quickly exhausted Karl's patience, a commodity whose reservoirs had already been painfully depleted by the onslaught of trolls, Aurthour's cryptic babble, and Karl's own tangled and twisted feelings.

"End of the line, Earl," Karl told him as they stepped up to the gate, which hovered a surprisingly inoffensive distance from the crest of the tallest hill, which they now stood upon. "I know you have some kind of disgusting fantasy love for these freaks, so if you want to hug that shit out before we leave, now's your last chance." Earl wound up to punch him and Karl ducked instinctively, grinning, but Nell caught her friend's arm and held him back.

"Nooo, Earl! Karkitty's just trying to get your goat. Don't hurt him!"

Earl frowned but stepped back, inclining his head slightly. "Yes, our unfit leader may be fond of uncouth remarks and lewd language, but it would be unconscionable if I forgot my own strength and did something... unfortunate."

"Duly fucking noted," Karl snapped, and then, flushing from embarrassment at the barbed rebuke, stepped forward, reaching up to touch the gate.

Instantly, darkness. But the darkness resolved itself rather quickly, scenery fading in around Karl, and that was different, because that had never happened before. He felt flat and fluid, as if he floated in mercury, and indeed the world around him seemed to flicker with silver, shades of molten metal surrounding him, engulfing him, holding him and lifting him up. Nothing in the universe seemed solid or defined save for a three-by-three inch square window hanging in space in front of him. Looking through it as though in a dream, Karl could see a dark and shadowed room hung with rich purple draperies, each baring a different occult symbol. Only four did he recognize as anything-- a cog, a sun, what appeared to be a stylized atom, and a set of parallel horizontal lines that presented themselves in his mind as representing 'breath'.

Karl blinked and a shadow stirred, removing itself from the rest and sweeping forward, a figure in a hooded cloak the color of wine, the sun symbol outlined on the breast in muted lavender. Faceless, the shadow swept forward until the light source was eclipsed, and then for a second there was nothing but the blackness between the gates-- and then an eye was pressed up to the window, the white yellow, the iris invisible for the inky darkness of the pupil.

 _  
Hmm. Prospitian again, I see. Well, I can't very well say that I'm surprised. Some things never change.   
_

Surprised, Karl blinked again and the vision was gone, replaced by solid ground under his feet and a distinct skyline before him, the real sun blazing red and hot over the baking ground. It was a desert they were in, the kind without sand but with dried and cracking mud beneath their feet and a horizon filled with rusty mesas and cacti, the sort of place that you'd expect gallant cowboys to gallop through on their way to the next cattle drive or hoe down. Before he could get his wits about him or take steps to contain her, Nell was bounding off on her own, Earl dutifully following her-- "Hey, we have to stick together!" he shouted, finding his voice, but they ignored him, and Karl pouted after them as Teri laughed.

"Calm down, Karl," she told him, sounding a lot more like her old self as she too strode forward, albeit in an entirely different direction from the one Nell and Earl had taken off in. "This is a game, isn't it? It's supposed to be fun."

"You could have fooled me," Karl griped, following her with his hands in his pockets for lack of anything better to do. "What the fuck was Solomon thinking when he coded this?"

"No clue! Probably something along the lines of 'Alice will be so impressed with my apeshit bananas hacker skills if I create something that is capable of resurrecting her as a god'. We should do that too, by the way."

"Do what?"

"Don't act stupid. I'm saying we should find our quest beds."

Karl's scowl only intensified with the enormity of the confusion that this sparked. "Are you talking about that thing that I... that Alice... the bed? That thing?"

Teri nodded, the arm tied to Lemonsnout's reins swaying slightly as she dragged the dragon behind her. "See? I knew you knew what I was talking about. Remind me when we find Timm's alchemiter to zap you up some 'thank you for not being a braindead moron literally all of the time' cookies."

"Oh, no. No no no no no no no. I am not killing you too, Teri," he told her, stopping dead in his tracks with his hands on his hips to show exactly how fucking serious he was about this. "That is not a thing that's happening. It was traumatic enough taking the hammer to my best friend's girlfriend who I'd known since we were like three-- no way in hell am I doing that to you, too. You think this is all shits and giggles party hour over here? It's not. I'm going to be having nightmares about that shit for years."

"You do not have PTSD, Karl."

"How the fuck do _you_ know?"

"Because if you did, you'd still be screaming."

"What the fuck kind of logic is that?" Karl demanded, stomping forward again, and was met with a small and pathetic "ow". He tilted his head to the side and examined Teri quizzically. "Ow?"

She shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'm not the one who got his very soul ripped to shreds by the homosexual love confession of an internet troll."

"How the fuck did we get back onto this topic of conversation?"

"Because it's hilarious, that's how. _I am not a homosexual_ my ass. You must burn through half your allowance money every time there's a new Gerard Butler flick out, it's pathetic."

"Gerard Butler's movies are crass polemics meant for an uncultured proletariat. You're just mad because you can't appreciate the cinematic and cultural splendor of _The Notebook_ like I can."

" _Ow._ "

"Oh, will you put a sock in it? Nobody wants to hear about how you cried straight through _Titanic_ three times in a row again. You know what, Karl? Your heart will not go on, okay? A gray-skinned alien from beyond the stars who also happens to be your god owns it, that heart is not going anywhere but right back in a cage where it belongs. Anyway, your time would be much better wasted on your knees serving at the altar of your master the Great and Almighty Egbert, wink wink nudge nudge."

"Well, at least I'm not the one who almost went catatonic after her internet boyfriend gave her the cold shoulder for five minutes!"

"God forbid anyone be a little concerned for someone else's safety! He could have been dead for all I knew."

"Um, you guys? Ow."

"Will you shut up?" Karl and Teri shouted at once, and then as one realized their mistake; looking down, Karl saw that he'd been standing on Timm's stomach for the duration of this conversation.

"What the hell are you doing down there, fuckass?" he asked, taking his foot away immediately and offering Timm a hand, which he took shakily, eyes wide and nervous. There was a spatter of dark, dried blood down the front of his orange plaid shirt, but it didn't appear to be his, which was perplexing enough on its own, because Timm was just as scrawny and malnourished-looking as ever, pale and brittle boned, his skin as thin as rice paper.

"I was, uh. Taking a nap?" Timm suggested cautiously, cringing slightly as he stood before Karl, shoulders scrunched in on themselves. "Gary told me you were coming but I didn't think it would be so soon..."

"That's okay," Teri told him with a note of sympathy that might have fallen anywhere on the sincerity spectrum, from facetious to blatantly false to haltingly true. "You can help us out, as long as we've found you! We're going on a quest."

Timm's face fell and what little color he had drained from his cheeks. "What kind of quest?"

Teri grinned, and for a fleeting moment she looked quite nearly shark-like, teeth glinting in the sun. "We're going to achieve immortality."

\---

AA: solomon   
TA: aradiia can we plea2e cut the shiit. y0u kn0w iit'2 me.   
AA: ah  
AA: i was afraid of this   
TA: what are y0u talkiing ab0ut?  
TA: ii2n't thii2 what we've been w0rkiing t0ward2?  
TA: ii can be wiith y0u s00n.   
AA: very well then  
AA: i see that its already begun   
TA: kk t0ld me that he helped y0u get tw0 g0d tiier.  
TA: wa2 he lyiing?   
AA: hes not karkat anymore   
TA: what the fuck are you talkiing ab0ut?  
TA: 0f c0urse he ii2. wh0 el2e w0uld he be?   
AA: himself  
AA: theres nothing i can say to dissuade you from pursuing your current course of action then  
AA: but please be careful  
AA: no matter what form you take i wish to see you one last time  
AA: im sorry solomon  
AA: i never was good at being your moirail  
AA: balancing you was too big a job for one person alone i think  
AA: and i dont think ive been a very good matesprit either  
AA: if i was i could have saved you

\---

"This is stupid," Karl informed the two of them as they walked, but it was painfully obvious that the only one listening was the dragon. "Just, you know, pointing that out, because _this is monumentally stupid_ and if you guys are going to emulate lemmings then you might as well have the decency to leave me out of it."

"So go see what Earl and Nell are up to," Teri drawled, not even bothering to glance over her shoulder. "No one's stopping you."

"But if I do, then you'll get yourself killed," Karl whined, well aware that he sounded like a petulant child but unable to stop himself. "And then Nell will cry, and I hate it when Nell cries."

"I thought that getting ourselves killed was, um, the objective here," Timm offered timidly, glancing back at Karl and maintaining eye contact only for the briefest of seconds. "But in... the good way? If that makes sense? Wait, I'm confused."

Teri sighed, exasperated, and paused, turning to glare at the two of them from behind those damn cheesy red plastic shades that never failed to be ridiculously unnerving. "Look, it's simple, okay? Find quest bed, die on quest bed, achieve god tier, everyone's happy and we have a better chance of winning the game. And no offense, Timm, but you _really_ need god powers if you're going to get through alive this time."

Timm gulped, staring at her with wide and bulging eyes. " _This_ time?"

Karl side-eyed her as well as he took his phone from his pocket again. No new messages. His heart sank straight into the pit of his stomach where a ball of mixed anger and self-loathing was forming, heavy as a stone. "Implying that there were other times?" he grumped, thinking himself snide and sarcastic but only half meaning it. The other half was shaken despite himself, thinking back to Egbert's warnings, subtext reading of cycles and cycles, thousands of games played. He shook his head, hard-- it was nonsense, all of it. It had to be.

Huffing, Teri went on, making for the only landmark on the horizon, a mesa that squatted above miles of empty, parched, and used-up land. "Honestly, neither of you? You both have patron trolls. I know that yours is an idiot, Karl, but I didn't think Jadite was defective."

"Jadite?" Karl asked, looking towards Timm in a vaguely accusatory manner.

"GG," he responded dismally, watching the ground. "I don't know why I haven't blocked her yet. She hates me."

"It's because you're a masochist," Teri cackled, and Timm only blushed, which made her laugh harder, the sound echoing and lingering maliciously in the still, empty air. "No, but honestly, if you haven't learned by now, I can't tell you. Just know that the three of us are important, and it's important for us to get to godtier like Alice did."

Rolling his eyes, Karl elbowed Timm none too lightly in the ribs, causing the other boy to wince pronouncedly and clutch at his side, growling, "Hope today's a good day for you to die, Timm. Teri won't go lightly on you."

She nodded, sagely, leaning heavily on Lemonsnout's shoulder again for support; she still hobbled on her twisted ankle, but the swelling was already going down, and she no longer limped as noticeably, Karl was glad to see. "That's true. Tell me, do you think it would _hurt_ to get stabbed in the throat?"

When Timm gurgled incomprehensibly in maddened fright Karl patted his shoulder in sympathy. "Don't mind her, she's fucking crazy. But you must know that-- you spend more time with her than I do, these days."

"I didn't know she was like this outside of LARPing," Timm told him, half frantically, and Karl turned his consoling motion into a push, shoving him closer to the blind girl as Karl himself fell back a ways.

"Yeah, she's a man eater. Have fun dealing with that." Then he spoke up, direction his energies at Teri-- "Hey, I'm going to see if I can get one of our fairy god trolls back on the line for awhile, okay? I want to know if this 'getting everyone we know and love brutally murdered' shtick is actually anything resembling a good idea, or if you're just pulling this out of your ass again."

"Try Kate," Teri suggested, sounding bored. "She was telling me about an online guide she found, awhile back. It was actually pretty useful for figuring out how to alchemize stuff-- she helped me with these snazzy clothes." Grinning, Teri held out her arms and twirled in a circle, showing off her fashion as Karl clapped in the most insincere manner he could manage. "At least, I think they're snazzy," Teri amended when she'd finished, face falling slightly. "I wouldn't know, would I?"

"They're, um, very nice," Timm stuttered, mostly looking at the ground, and Karl sighed as they moved on again, mashing a few buttons on his phone.

\-- abysmalGuardian [AG] began pestering gildedAxiom [GA] at 21:04! --

AG: HEY, KATE. SO, YOU'RE IN ON THIS THING, HUH?   
GA: Yes. So Far, I Do Not See What The Commotion Is About.  
GA: Eric And I Managed To Place All The Equipment In Record Time, Though Operating It Is A Bit Of A Chore. As Soon As I Have Finished With These Frogs, I May Go Visit Him.   
AG: ERIC? FROGS? WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?   
GA: Perhaps This Requires A Smidgeon Of Extra Exposition.  
GA: You See, I Found An Online Help Guide To The Game We Are Playing, Which Rather Perplexed Me.   
AG: YEAH, TERI TOLD ME. THAT'S WHAT I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT, ACTUALLY.   
GA: Please Refrain From Interrupting When Other People Are Talking, Karl, It Is Very Rude Of You And One Of Your Worst Characteristics, I Am Afraid.   
AG: YEAH, YEAH, SORRY. WHAT ABOUT THE GUIDE, THEN?   
GA: You Should Be.  
GA: As I Was Saying, Upon Realizing The Dire Straights I Was In, Trapped Without A Proper Weapon, I Contacted The Guide's Purveyor In Order To Ascertain How Her Knowledge Of Our Current Circumstances Came About, And For Further Advice In Slaughtering Imps And Ascending The Ladder of Human Turmoil To Succeed.  
GA: I.E. Not Die.   
AG: AND?   
GA: Ahem.    
AG: UGH. SORRY. PLEASE, YOUR HIGHNESS, DO GO ON.   
GA: Well, After Speaking With The Young Woman And Hearing A Few Of Her Daring Exploits, I Was Roped Into A Scheme Of Sorts. It Involves Frogs, And Will Apparently Give Our Session A More Favorable Outcome.   
AG: OH YEAH? WELL, SHIT, I GUESS YOU SHOULD JUST KEEP DOING WHAT YOU'RE DOING WITHOUT ME BOTHERING YOU, THEN. COULD YOU LINK ME TO YOUR GUIDE, AT LEAST? I'M TRYING TO FIGURE MY OWN SHIT OUT HERE AND KEEP TERI FROM GOING OFF TOO EARLY AND KILLING SOMEONE. IT'S LIKE SOMEONE POURED ITCHING POWDER ALL OVER HER TRIGGER FINGER OR SOMETHING, I SWEAR TO GOD.   
GA: I Sympathize, But I Am Not Certain You Would Find It Helpful.  
GA: It Is Not Designed For Advanced Players Such As Yourself.  
GA: By Which I Mean If You Are Already Inside The Game, It Will Not Be Useful To You.   
AG: SHIT. BACK TO PLAN A, I GUESS. WHY DOES EVERYTHING ALWAYS HAVE TO BE NEEDLESSLY GODDAMN CONVOLUTED?   
GA: Because The Universe Hates You.  
GA: ...That Was A Joke.   
AG: COULD HAVE FUCKING FOOLED ME.

Snarling in frustration, Karl opened his chumroll again, and scrolled down to the absolute last entry, loathing himself for it. There was no other recourse. Teri would obviously go flying the rest of the way off her rocker soon, and then god only knew what sort of trouble they'd all be in.

AG: SO LOOK I KIND OF HATE MYSELF FOR THIS BUT HERE I AM, ON MY KNEES, GROVELING AT YOUR E-FEET AS I PROSTRATE MYSELF AT THE ALTAR OF THIS PHONE, BEGGING FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE.   
GG: about time! i was getting bored over here.   
AG: WEREN'T YOU WORKING ON SOME PROJECT?   
GG: i am! the beta version is almost done, though. we're just waiting for it to charge, and that's booooring.  
GG: so i guess i promised you some answers, didn't i?  
GG: but i'm not going to tell you.   
AG: WHY THE SHIT NOT? GODDAMN IT, IF I EVER MEET ANY OF YOU TROLLS I SWEAR I WILL SHOVE MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASSHOLES OR CHITINOUS PROTEIN CHUTES OR WHATEVER IT IS YOU HAVE SO FAR THAT YOU'LL BE SPITTING OUT SHOELACES FOR A WEEK.   
GG: hehe. it's because you're funny when you're mad! ;)   
AG: ...OH HEY IF YOU'RE ON BREAK THEN EGBERT IS TOO. I GUESS I MIGHT AS WELL SHAKE HIM DOWN FOR ANSWERS INSTEAD. ALSO, FUCK OFF, HARLEY.   
GG: who told you my name was harley? :o   
AG: NO ONE HAD TO TELL ME. IT JUST IS.   
GG: you're right.   
GG: so i guess you're remembering, then. just a little bit, but it's enough!  
GG: that earns you a thing, then.   
AG: ...WHAT KIND OF THING?  
AG: A GOOD THING, OR A STUPID BULLSHIT THING THAT WILL MAKE ME WANT TO _NEVER STOP STABBING YOU?_   
GG: the first one... i think.   
AG: ALRIGHT. LET'S TRY THIS ON A PROBATIONARY CONCERN, THEN. WHAT DID I EARN?   
GG: it's about jawwhn, so you might not like it.   
AG: IF IT'S ABOUT EGBERT, I WANT TO HEAR IT.  
AG: OR... SHIT, WERE YOU WATCHING WHEN I WAS TALKING TO THE CENTAUR KING?   
GG: no, but i can look it up. hold on.   
AG: HOLDING.  
AG: BUT IMPATIENTLY, SO HURRY THIS SHIT UP.   
GG: oh! i see. you saw a boy, didn't you? a human boy, black hair, glasses, world's most endearing dorky smile?  
GG: you just wanted to cuddle him, didn't you?   
AG: I'D SEEN HIM BEFORE. I... DREAMED ABOUT HIM. I THINK. BUT THE HIM I DREAMED ABOUT HAD HORNS AND TEETH LIKE A SHARK, AND... I DON'T KNOW. I THOUGHT MIMIR'S WELL WAS SUPPOSED TO SHOW ME MY FATE OR MY DESTINY OR WHATEVER.   
GG: it did.  
GG: that boy, the one you've been dreaming about?  
GG: that's jawwhn.

Karl's heart stopped for a full fifteen seconds as cold sweat drenched his entire body. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. There was no way the reassuring presence in his dreams, the arms he'd secretly longed to fall into and embrace for eternity, be wrapped up in and dragged into the world of darkness and sleep forever... there was no way that had been Egbert the whole time. Karl wouldn't allow it to be true.

And yet...

And yet, if it was, then the emotion festering in his breast that he could not accept was longing was justified, made sense. More than made sense, was obvious, as he instinctively knew Teri's for the red text douchebag was. Karl's world was shattered, but Jadite was still typing, and he read on, stunned, hoping for real answers.

GG: he's your... i don't know what to call him. not a kismesis, not really a moirail or a matesprit, definitely not an auspistice.  
GG: not a husband, either.  
GG: what you guys are doesn't have a quadrant, on earth or where i come from either, i don't think.   
AG: WAIT, WHAT?  
AG: NO. THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE. HE'S... HE'S NOT HUMAN, IS HE? NONE OF YOU ARE. NONE OF YOU ARE _REAL._   
GG: of course we're real!  
GG: but no, we're not human. we're trolls. real trolls, in every sense of the word.  
GG: but unlike internet trolls, we really do want the best for you.  
GG: and we want to meet you!  
GG: especially jawwhn. he misses you something fierce, and he's technically never even met you.   
AG: SO THAT'S WHY I'VE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT HIM? THIS FATE NONSENSE?   
GG: fated partners. we all have one, i guess-- it's kind of the backbone of romance, karl, come on.   
AG: AND YOU'RE SAYING THAT EGBERT IS MINE? JUST BECAUSE I DIDN'T TELL HIM TO FUCK OFF ENOUGH IN THE PAST?   
GG: even if you had, it wouldn't have made a difference. i don't think you're understanding the concept here, karl.  
GG: your romance was destined to be, but that doesn't mean it has to end well, or even last longer than a few moments in time.  
GG: you were doomed by the past actions of a person who wasn't even really you.   
AG: LIKE... REINCARNATION? I LOVED HIM IN A PREVIOUS LIFE SO NOW I HAVE TO FOREVER?   
GG: not... really. because even your earliest self didn't really choose it!  
GG: you could call it god, i guess, though god as a concept doesn't make much sense anymore.  
GG: just... fate. destiny.  
GG: anyway, you don't really want to not love him.  
GG: if your soul wasn't reaching out to him as his is to you, you wouldn't be having these dreams.   
AG: I AM NOT A HOMOSEXUAL, GODDAMN IT.   
GG: you don't have to be. just... egbertsexual.

Rageful, pride broken, Karl snapped his phone shut without another invective and bile filled word, resisting the urge to dash the device against the ground and be done with it. "Not helpful?" Teri asked, sounding sincere in her empathy.

"Not one little goddamn cocksucking bit," Karl replied, and stopped, noticing that Teri and her dragon had, too, and that they were standing in the shadow of the mesa now. It wasn't really that tall, maybe two hundred feet up with a series of short, easily climbed ledges leading to the top, and Lemonsnout had already put his front talons up on the lowest one, providing his back as a ramp for them to shimmy up.

"Well, put it out of your mind and let's get going," Teri told him firmly, already swinging a leg up over Lemonsnout. "We've got a long way to go and not a lot of time to do it in, if certain authorities are to be believed."

"Certain authorities?" Timm piped up, nearly squeaking, doubtlessly thinking of Jadite. Karl understood exactly how he felt.

Glowering and tensing himself, Karl followed Teri, motioning for Timm to follow. "I've had enough of trolls to last me five lifetimes," he muttered, and Teri laughed.

"Oh, for many more than that, Vates," she practically purred, fondly, pausing after disembarking from the dragon's broad neck to pat Karl on the head as he came up, Timm still slowing crawling up the long column of Lemonsnout's golden back. "But again, don't think about that now. Timm's quest bed is up here, I can just feel it in my bones."

Karl could feel something too, if he tried, and it disquieted him. In his bones, in his blood, beating in his heart, pulsing in the deep tissue of red organ meat, burning in his brain, was a profound sensation of _wrongness_ , foulness, something vile poisoning reality's well. The higher they climbed, struggling up on their own now with Timm huffing and puffing in the rear, his stick-thin arms trembling, the more the air seemed to thicken and press in against Karl's tightly stretched skin, a pressure like iron against his temples. The ledges were jagged and sometimes cut into his skin, leaving smears of scarlet in his wake, but Karl barely felt it, his mind a wash of color and light and screaming pain and ghostly touches against his arm.

It was, he felt, as though there was a dam in his mind, or perhaps his soul, solidly built and reinforced with girders upon girders of steel, that was slowly cracking. And behind this dam lived hundreds of memories-- all his blackouts, all his memories of his baby days long repressed, every concussion and dream that had slipped away like paper in the wind --all straining and pressing to get through, pushing and pushing and gathering strength and waiting to burst through and consume him, envelop him, warp him and change him as the tide would, dragging things under and forcing others up on frothing white-capped waves of rage and things incomprehensible. There was a conscious decision that he had made, once, and continued making in every minute that he was aware of himself, where the outside world and what he was doing in it fell away, and he chose, chose to forget, to remain in the dream, to stay Karl Vates and keep whatever he was, what he really was, behind the dam.

Because Karl knew what lived behind the dam. He had seen it on other nights, when he'd woken up half choked by his sheets.

What lived behind the dam was his other self, and Karl hated him. He was the devil on his shoulder, the demon hiding in the shadows. Karl was awful sometimes but his friends knew he meant well. The Other Karl hated everyone, hated Egbert, hated his father and Teri and the whole damn world. The Other Karl was the wellspring from which all his assholery and dickishness flowed like a sludge-choked river. The Other Karl was the opposite of who he wanted to be.

Again, Karl made the choice, and came out of it gasping as though he'd been submerged in the blood river again, shivering slightly though the day was warm, and found himself standing atop the mesa, just over the lip, with Teri at his side. She was trembling too, and mistaking his own actions, nudged her hand closer to him until it was slipped into his, their fingers entwined. "I can smell them," she whispered, and in the next instant Karl could see again, and knew exactly what she was talking about.

Before them stood a ring of minotaurs, vast, shaggy monsters with crude stone and bone axes, beady eyes narrowed, thick brown hair hanging off them in greasy ropes matted with mud and their own excrement. They stunk like rotten meat, or death, or a bruise gone sour, and they looked mean, their breath coming in heaving pants as slowly they advanced.

"Where's Timm?" Karl asked in a stage whisper, clinging harder to Teri's hand and trying to dislodge the hammer from where it was tied to his belt loop with the other.

"I don't know, but he needs to get up here."

"Why?"

" _Look._ " Teri inclined her head towards the center of the butte, and in the instant before a minotaur's imposing hoof crashed down on it, Karl could see the same parallel lines he'd spied in the space between gates; a quest bed, then, and obviously not his or Teri's. "He's Page of Breath again, same as every time, this is where he belongs. If one of us is going to die here, it should be him, goddamn it!" Her voice was angry, bordering on frantic, and she let go of him long enough to unsheathe the sword from her cane, long and tapering and glimmering in the sunlight, but nothing but a toothpick against the mountain of meat advancing on them.

"Shit," Karl swore, pulling the hammer free and brandishing it before him. "Get away, goddamn it!" he shouted hoarsely, hoping they would be afraid of the noise, but the creatures kept coming, steadily, raising their large forearms. Karl lashed out at one and connected solidly, earning a furious roar; the arm he'd struck lifted up and smashed back down again against the rock, and Karl barely had time to scamper out of the way before chips of dusty sandstone were flying in all directions, instant shrapnel.

When he came out of his dodge roll, Karl glanced over at where Teri had been, but found his view blocked by a wall of minotaurs, all of whom were now bellowing, their throats expanding with the deafening noise, and Karl tried not to clap his hands over his pained ears, instead striking out again, and again, shouting "Take that, fuckass!" and other such pleasantries as he did so. It had absolutely no effect. The consorts raged, throwing slow punches that he dodged and ducked under and occasionally smashing their axes against the rock. A few times he heard Teri cry out, in victory or pain he could not tell, and then he was beside her again, just soon enough to be pushed to the edge.

He teetered for a moment and shouted, seeing Teri's head snap towards him, throwing herself forward, reaching out, desperate. For a moment, time stopped, and he met her sightless eyes through the red plastic, her fingers stretched helplessly towards him. Then the normal progression of things reasserted itself and she fell onto her stomach, skidding forward enough to scrape as Karl and her wrist were jerked downward, now supporting his entire one hundred something pounds of weight. Karl grunted in pain, his arm nearly wrenched out of the socket, and Teri slid forward a few more inches. "I've got you!" she shouted, clearly trying to be reassuring as below them Lemonsnout paced, adding his own screeches to the din. She had him, but no one had _her_ , and for a moment Karl was sure they would both go over the edge. Then Timm's head appeared over Teri's shoulder, wrapping around her neck and adding his hands to hers over Karl's. With a grunt, he pulled, and up they all went, landing in a sprawling pile, Timm thrown far backwards.

Karl lay dazed a moment, looking up and just watching the sky. "That was close," he rasped, and Teri nodded beside him, her short hair brushing his forearm, each listening to the other breathe until their respite was broken by a crunch and a sickening scream. Karl staggered to his feet to find Timm writhing on his back in pain with a minotaur over him, club in hand-- both of the boy's legs were bent at unnatural angles.

"Stop!" he shouted, and the minotaur, smaller than all the rest, barely taller than Timm himself, stopped, arm half raised for another crushing blow. "Stop," Timm commanded in a quieter voice, strong but half choked with sobs. "They hurt you, didn't they," he went on, tears streaming down his cheeks, wet lines down his tanned skin. "You were so scared, you just wanted to make friends, and they hurt you. I know. But it's okay now. No one has to--" here he sobbed and gasped for breath. "No one has to die."

"He's going into shock," Teri whispered, gripping Karl's upper forearm. "We have to set the bones."

"Any idea how to do that?"

"None at all."

"Great job there then, Dr. House. Another brilliant diagnosis."

Teri glared at him. "This is serious, Karl."

"Should I have referenced Doogie Howser instead?"

Timm was still speaking to the minotaur; strangely, it seemed to be the only one left. The others had faded into shadows, leaving only the small, stunted beast, who bent to kneel before the boy, broad black nose against his forehead. Soon a pink tongue darted out and lathed over Timm's forehead, and Karl allowed himself to relax by inches as the minotaur dropped its club.

Just then, Karl's phone buzzed again, and so did the air around him, and Karl was filled with the most peculiar sense of dread.

GG: hi, karl! i know i made you mad earlier, but i'm sending you a little gift to make up for it! ;)   
AG: WAIT, WHAT? HARLEY, WHAT THE SHIT ARE YOU DOING?

The air crackled, thick and heavy like thunderstorms, and Karl's head jerked up towards where Timm was stroking the minotaur's broad head. "There, now," he cooed, offering the beast a small smile, "you're not so bad, are you? Just confused. I bet--"

"Timm, get away from there!" Karl barked, and Timm barely had time to look back at him, perplexed, before the sky was tearing itself apart, a gaping maw of stars and darkness replacing the cloudless expanse of blue air. Another crack, like the sound of a thousand bones snapping under the heel of god, and the earth was tied to the sky for a full second by a rope of white lightning, an arrow of power that snapped down and struck the minotaur. It did not have enough time to cry out, but eyes went wide and bloodless, made big by mindless fear, and when the light faded and the hole in the sky closed itself with an inward rush of collapsed air, it slumped over sideways, head lolling, pinned to the ground by a ten-foot spear.

Timm screamed again, reaching out to bury his face in the hairy chest, clutching handfuls of fur and shaking the beast's twitching body, mindless of the damage he was doing to his already ruined legs and the warm blood that poured onto his chest. Karl and Teri watched in silence and, in Karl's case at least, quietly stewing rage. Teri's mouth was a line, so thin and flat that her pursed lips could hardly be seen, both hands clasped around the dragon head of her cane as she leaned forward on it. Neither of them were good at consoling people, and after ten minutes of sobbing, Karl had just gotten up the courage to offer a pathetic "There, there" when Timm pulled away enough to speak.

"Karl, could you... could you ask her why?"

The corners of Karl's mouth turned down with pity and worry that he did not particularly care to disguise, never having heard Timm speak in such a firm, demanding, _betrayed_ voice before. Through grit teeth he stuttered the words, voice slurred with red, raw pain, and yet still, he had more courage now than ever before. "Yeah, hang on," Karl muttered, turning back to the glowing rectangular interface of his phone.

AG: SO LET'S BE CLEAR ON SOMETHING: YOU'RE PSYCHOTIC.   
GG: what do you mean? :(  
GG: the test worked perfectly!   
AG: YEAH SEE THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. THE OTHER TWO OPTIONS ARE THAT YOU HAVE A RAGING HATE-ON FOR MARTIN OVER THERE OR YOUR TARGETING SYSTEM REALLY, REALLY SUCKS. SO WHICH IS IT, HARLEY?   
GG: weeeeell...  
GG: i guess i could have put in the coordinates wrong.  
GG: but you're not entirely wrong about me and at!   
AG: SO YOU ACTUALLY DO HATE THE LITTLE IDIOT, DO YOU? THAT'S A NEW LOW FOR YOU TROLLS.  
AG: GUY'S PATHETIC, BUT SHIT, HE'S NOT A BAD PERSON OR ANYTHING. HE'S NOT EVEN THE MOST ANNOYING PERSON I KNOW, AND I KNOW A LOT OF IRRITATING FUCKASSES.   
GG: you don't understand, karl. you're not the one whose been dealing with him for centuries.  
GG: yeah, he's pathetic, that's the point! he never changes! every cycle it's the same thing, and i'm always the one who winds up dealing with it.  
GG: and you know what? i'm sick of it.   
AG: OH JESUS DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU'RE "BLACK" FOR HIM, THEN.   
GG: is this reeeeeeeally the best time to be having this conversation, karl? i just demonstrated beyond a fraction of a doubt that travel between our universes is possible!   
AG: ROMANCE IS ALWAYS IMPORTANT, DON'T EVEN PLAY.  
AG: BUT YEAH I GUESS I CAN PUT THAT ON A BACK BURNER FOR THE MOMENT, BECAUSE REALLY, HOW THE JESUS SHITTING FUCK DID YOU EVEN MANAGE THAT?   
GG: it was a team effort!  
GG: i mean, okay, it was mostly me and tt, but. jawwhn and daevid helped too!   
AG: YEAH AND THAT TELLS ME EXACTLY FUCK-ALL NOTHING ABOUT WHAT YOU ACTUALLY DID, SURPRISE SURPRISE.   
GG: look, i can't tell you everything. you wouldn't understand it! it gets really technical.  
GG: but i'm the seer of space, okay? space is my element, like blood is yours. you got a really sucky element, by the way-- there's nothing practical you can do with that.  
GG: but space is a good one, because i can manipulate it. if daevid and i had both gotten to godtier, we could have been unstoppable! this was a really bad session for godtier, though. not even jawwhn made it.   
AG: SO BASICALLY YOU RIPPED SPACE-TIME A NEW ASSHOLE AND RAPED IT WITH WHAT APPEARS TO BE SATAN'S JOUSTING POLE, AM I GETTING THAT RIGHT?   
GG: sort of!  
GG: it takes a lot of energy to hold the portal open, though, and right now i don't think it could sustain the transport of sentient life. just sending the lance over depleted over half our reserves!  
GG: oh, it's a lance, by the way.  
GG: and i wouldn't touch it yet, actually, this was bad planning on my part. it was supposed to hit at.

In the near distance, there was a sudden, smaller crack and a fizzle of searing flesh, followed by Timm's guttural, aching cry and the clack of Teri's cane rapidly scuttling towards his section of the butte.

AG: TOO LATE.   
GG: ugggggh it was timm, wasn't it.   
AG: NO, JADITE, I SPECIFICALLY WALKED OVER AND PUT MY HAND ON THE PUTRID, STINKING CORPSE OF A GIANT BOVINE MONSTER JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES. I AM SINCERELY THAT STUPID.   
GG: :/  
GG: welp. how badly is he hurt?

Looking up once more, Karl allowed himself to hear Timm's small whimpers as Teri knelt by his side, frowning and prodding his reddened, blistered palms with her fingertip. It looked as though he had leaned up to grab the spear shaft, maybe intending to lever himself up onto his feet or pull it from the body of the beast, and been burned for it, perhaps badly. The welts extended over the undersides of his fingers down to where the hands met his wrists, and one burst when Teri poked it, spilling yellowish pus over his skin with a deflating hiss.

AG: HE LOOKS LIKE HE JUST SET OFF A BOTTLE ROCKET WITHOUT REMEMBERING TO LET GO OF IT FIRST. OH, AND BOTH HIS LEGS ARE BROKEN, BUT THAT ONE'S MOSTLY MY FAULT.   
GG: stupid fuckass!! you don't just reach out and grab things that fell from the sky, who even does that???   
AG: YOUR COSMIC NEMESIS, THAT'S WHO.   
GG: kismesis, not nemesis. but shut up, we are not!  
GG: i don't _hate_ him, anyway.  
GG: i just... i feel like there used to be someone whose job it was to deal with him, and i wish that they'd come back.  
GG: anyway, it's not important. it's time to move on.   
AG: WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT THE LANCE?   
GG: you'll find a way. i believe in you, karl.  
GG: and i'd believe in timm, too, if he'd just believe in himself.

\---

Nell tipped her head back and sniffed the air, pausing momentarily to inhale the cloying scent of sulfur and brimstone. A row of brittle knives glittered across the backs of her hands, a set of steel knuckles that menaced any and all living things. They, and her fingers, were stained the inky black of oil imps, highlights shining with iridescent rainbows in the harsh sunlight, spatters of different fluids over her clothes showing where imps had burst before her like pinatas, showering her with their precious grist and experience. Earl was a hundred feet or so away, drawing back the string of his arrow, sighted on the retreating back of a long-armed, fox-faced shale imp.

A meaty _twang_ and the arrow was released, soaring down the wind-seared plain to fell its quarry with a sound so distant, it was not even heard. Earl answered it with a nod of satisfaction and turned towards his smaller charge, a barely perceptible look of worry furrowing his brow.

"Is everything alright, Nell?" he rumbled, his voice low and deep, dripping with machismo that Nell was impervious to.

She took another deep breath, letting her eyes slip closed, and knelt, feeling small tremors and vibrations in the earth. "I don't know," she hummed, half to herself. "I don't think that we should stay here much longer."

Earl's head dipped again in assent. "We appear to have run out of imps, for one thing."

Nell's usually affable expression creased into a slight frown as her eyes slipped open again, studying the sky. The smell of sulfur increased, growing steadily stronger, and she watched the air above her, seeing how the clouds blew in from the west, thin and white like stretched cotton balls. "No, it's not that. We need to find the gate."

"Nell, if this turns into another meaningless quest for Narnia or fountains of kittens, or--"

"Fountain of Cute," Nell corrected automatically, absently. Her paws pressed to the ground, which she kneaded restlessly, as she might have in a life before.

"Whatever it was. I am only saying that it is an inadvisable course of action to pursue. I do not trust Vates' leadership, but to be separated from their group for this long can only bring trouble."

"Just wait," Nell assured him, and watched. For a moment, everything was still-- the wind blew, tugging at their hair and her cap and the baggy arms of her long coat, and whistled through the canyons and plateaus, and the clouds rolled over the sky, sedate, not coming near the sun. "Wait," she repeated, and as the sound fell from her lips she tasted fire, sparks like battery acid against her tongue, and her palms were filled with static electricity and above her flew the firebird, an arrow of flame that shot through the clouds and past the sun, leaving a smoke trail a thousand feet in the air, jet stream trailing out behind it, towards the horizon the gate beyond it.

"Thanks, Alice," she took the time to whisper and then was off, laughing and whooping as Earl gave an indignant cry behind her, galloping on long legs to match her frantic, leaping stride. And together, they ran on to the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we are all caught up! Next update is scheduled for either the end of this week or the beginning of next week, at the latest.


	8. Seventh Iteration: He Too With Death Shall Dwell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coding for this chapter was very graciously provided by Urban_Anchorite. Thanks a lot, bro.

“So. Any ideas on what we’re supposed to be doing about this, then?” Teri asked, nudging the tip of the long pole with the steel toe of her pointed back shoe, as well as she could with the spearhead having embedded itself a good five inches into the stone. Smears of drying blood gruesomely decorated the shaft, and the stunted minotaur’s body was slowly beginning to slide down on it, nothing more now than a hunk of rancid, rotting meat and mud-matted fur. Dark eyes still gaped in the death grip of surprise, the final shock, as flies walked across the drying surface. The stink was ungodly, and Karl had to stand several feet away, Timm’s torso propped up against his knees as he covered the lower half of his face with his shirt to block out the overpowering stench.

“Leave it,” Karl growled through the oppressive cloth, his voice muffled and choked; even opening his mouth was enough to make him gag and retch. “We’ve got bigger problems right now.”

“We wouldn’t if you’d stop being a pussy about it,” Teri snapped back, extending a finger towards the lance and yanking it back instantly as a crackle of green-white lightning shot out, reverberating down her arm. Turning back towards Karl, she shook her hand out, scowling sightlessly. “You know what needs to happen. We can’t take him through the game like this, he’d just be a liability. Anyway, his quest bed is right here-- what do you think we came here for? Fruity rainbow rumpus party hour?”

Timm shivered at those words, his own eyes wide with fear, the whites showing almost completely, and Karl rested a consoling hand on his shoulder, feeling how the boy flinched away. “I already told you, I’m not doing your dirty work for you. If that’s what you want, fucking do it yourself—Alice was more than enough for me for one lifetime.”

Failure, the voice in the back of Karl’s head hissed, and he shuddered too, gingerly feeling out the new and widening crack in his psyche. Failure, failure, stupid boy, you were supposed to protect him, what are you doing, can’t let this—

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he added roughly, shaking his head to clear out the voices like cobwebs, echoes upon echoes like ripples in a pond, spreading out to fill every corner of his mind. “Anyway, we don’t put people down like dogs who played too long in traffic, okay? Fuck, your dragon’s getting gangrene of the leg and I don’t see you falling all over yourself to put it out of its misery.”

For an instant, Teri’s resolute expression faltered, but then the mask was back in place again, ruthless, merciless, like a shark caught blood in the water and headed for a feeding frenzy, ready to tear some poor sucker apart. “Lemonsnout is still useful. This is why we came here in the first place! If you can’t see that this is for the best, you’ve got a lot of growing up to do. Alice was fine, Timm will be fine too.”

Timm shook again, brittle, and grabbed at Karl’s forearm, pulling as though trying to haul himself up—or drag Karl down. With a degree of worried obedience he’d never dare show for anyone but a dying man, Karl sunk onto one knee, looking Timm in the eye. The boy’s mouth was dry, lips chapped, and his free hand was opening and closing spasmodically, but he managed to croak, “Could you, um. This sounds weird, but could you please call the minotaurs?”

Karl tried to exchange glances with Teri, remembered that she had no way of picking up on the gesture, took a moment to feel incredibly stupid, and then gave thought to the request, scowling slightly. “They’re all gone, Timm,” he said softly, slowly, enunciating every word almost painfully. “They left before your runt got skewered.”

Timm nodded as Teri muttered something biting about sensitivity in the background, but Karl wasn’t listening, because Timm was going on. “His name was Tinkerbull,” he murmured, a wavering note in his voice. “I used to… I used to dream about this, sometimes. And Jadite, I think. I… I knew this…” he stopped and coughed, a spatter of scarlet coming up with frothy spit, and Karl knew his injuries had to be worse than just broken legs; something was ruptured inside of him, too. “So I know they’re still there. They’ll listen to me. I… I know how this is supposed to go.”

Karl swallowed thickly, his own hands trembling now. “And then what? I call them, and then…?”

“They’ll take me away. And the lance. It’s called… I forget what it’s called. Maybe I never knew. You could probably ask Rosace about it; she knows about a lot of game things, Kate said.” Timm paused to reboard a different train of thought, and out of the corner of his eye Karl could see the shadows creeping, reforming themselves into the hulking visages of shaggy monsters that loomed in the near distance, just out of focus. “And they’ll fix me. That’s the important part. You guys d-don’t have to do anything.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Karl asked, a note of worry reverberating deep in his voice, and the boy nodded, surety coloring his movements.

“It has to go this way,” he groaned, and Karl backed off a few inches, noticing that the shadows were marching steadily closer, now clearly the forms of the consorts, details filling in from the center and around the edges. The closest minotaur bent to one knee as Karl had done, scooping the broken boy up in its strong arms and pulling him tight to its chest. “Otherwise everything will be all wrong, and everyone will die.”

“Did you see that too?” Teri asked gravely, her cane clasped in front of her again, and Timm nodded, shallow and jerky but definite. “Then that’s all we need to know. Come on, Karl.” Taking his arm, she spun him back towards the ledge of the mesa, tugging insistently when he instinctively pulled back.

“What? No! This is crazy, Teri, it’s—“

“It’s not,” she barked, commanding, and the gravity of her tone stopped Karl cold. “It’s just the truth. The dreams are always right, Karl. If he saw how this goes, then we need to leave him to it.”

“I knew you would say that,” Timm piped in with a weak grin. “And now Karl will say something like ‘Why the fuck should I trust a bunch of mystical fortune reading dream nonsense over common goddamn sense’.”

“Why the fuck should I—” Karl started before the sentence was half out of Timm’s mouth and before he could stop himself, and then stood blinking stupidly as Teri and Timm both smirked—the expression looked almost comically wrong, though infinitely friendlier, on Martin. “I…” Karl started again, and floundered for words, blushing. “I’m getting a text, hold please.” And he actually was, thank god.

Just not from anyone he’d particularly wanted to hear from at the moment.

TC: HEY MOTHERFUCKIN’ BEST FRIEND.  
TC: hear you and timm got into some serious biznasty shit, my fine brother.  
TC: YOU BEST BE COMIN’ UP TO SEE ME SOON, YOU HEAR?  
TC: got some wicked shit to share with you, gonna blow your fool mind.   
AG: GODDAMN IT GARY HAVEN’T WE DISCUSSED HOW I NEVER WANT TO GET HIGH WITH YOU AGAIN? BECAUSE I THINK WE HAVE.  
AG: BUT YEAH CALM DOWN WE’RE WORKING ON IT. I’VE BEEN A LITTLE BUSY MAKING SURE THAT NO ONE DOES ANY OLYMPIC FLIPS OFF THE HANDLE AND GODDAMN DIES OR ANYTHING.   
TC: BITCHIN  
TC: just wanted to remind you, brother.  
TC: We’Re AlL cOuNtInG oN yOu To PuLl Us ThRoUgH, MoThErFuCkEr.   
AG: OH THANKS FOR THAT. I FEEL SO GODDAMN REASSURED RIGHT NOW.   
TC: JuSt KeEp WoRkIn’ YoUr MiRaCleS, DoG. sHiT’s GoNnA bE cHiLl As IcEd CoFfEe.

\-- turnwiseClowning [TC] ceased pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 22:04! --

Aware that Teri was now steering him back down the mesa, carefully edging him towards the first step down and then the next, he waved goodbye to Timm half-heartedly, still distracted but hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time he ever saw his friend. Because Timm was his friend, if not a close one. All of them were, even Earl, even Eric, and he wasn’t ever going to leave another of them behind. Timm was safe, probably, with consorts that certainly could have killed him already if they’d wanted to, and Karl felt about 99% confident in leaving him there.

Which was good, because the second he even considered having second thoughts, a small chime signaled that someone else had need of him, and someone he had been getting rather concerned at not having heard from in hours, at that.

AC: :3 *the purrlayful kitten bounds up to karlkitty and paws at his leg with a worried mew* hey!  
AC: :3 guess what?   
AG: JESUS, WHAT NOW?   
AC: :0 ct and i found the next gate!   
AG: OH THANK FUCK. THAT IS ACTUALLY THE BEST NEWS I’VE HEARD IN AWHILE. THE SOONER WE CAN GET OUT OF THIS HELLHOLE, THE BETTER.   
AC: :3 that’s what we thought too!  
AC: :3 there’s something weird about this place, karlkitty…  
AC: :3 about all these places, actually.   
AG: LIKE THE FACT THAT GODDAMN EVERYTHING, INCLUDING OUR ALLIES, IS APPARENTLY TRYING TO MURDER US IN OUR SLEEP?   
AC: :3 um, that wasn’t what i was thinking of, but that too.   
AG: WHAT, THEN?   
AC: :3 it doesn’t… smell right.   
AG: NELL, BREAKING NEWS: YOU ARE NOT, NOR HAVE YOU EVER ACTUALLY BEEN, ANY SORT OF FELINE. GIVE IT THE FUCK UP AND TAKE YOUR FURRY SHIT ELSEWHERE, OKAY? THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS UP IN HERE.   
AC: >:3 you’re not listening!  
AC: >:3 or paying attention!  
AC: >:3 everything smells like blood, can’t you tell? i’ve been smelling it since i got to my world, but it just keeps getting stronger. i can’t believe you haven’t noticed it.   
AG: WELL, I’M NOTICING IT NOW, FOR SURE, I’M STANDING IN FRONT OF A GODDAMN CORPSE. WHAT’S YOUR POINT?   
AC: :0 a corpse? is everything okay with you guys?   
AG: NO. TIMM’S LEGS GOT SHATTERED, A SPEAR FELL FROM THE SKY AND SKEWERED A MINOTAUR LIKE IT WAS A GODDAMN COCKTAIL SAUSAGE ON A PLASTIC SWORD, AND NOW WE JUST GOT DONE DEBATING WHETHER TO BRUTALLY MURDER OUR FRIEND SO THAT HE COULD ASCEND TO GODHOOD OR IF WE SHOULD HAVE HANDED HIM OVER TO A BUNCH OF BEASTS AND PROSPECTIVELY AVOIDED WINDING UP IN A DOOMED TIMELINE.  
AG: …ACTUALLY COMPARED TO SOME OF THE STUFF I’VE DONE LATELY, THAT ALMOST IS OKAY, YEAH.   
AC: :( oh no…  
AC: :( well that makes my purroblems seem pawsitively pale in comparison!  
AC: :( that’s just clawful, karlkitty. i hope at is okay.   
AG: NELL I KNOW THAT PUNS ARE YOUR COPING MECHANISM, BUT CAN YOU PLEASE TRY TO TONE IT DOWN A LITTLE? SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO HAVE A LEGITIMATE DISCUSSION ABOUT CURRENT EVENTS THAT ARE AFFECTING OUR LIVES, HERE.   
AC: :| i know!!  
AC: :3 i’m just concerned for my furiends, gosh.  
AC: :3 anyway, you should try to get here soon. ct and i hunted a bunch of imps on the way over here, so everything should be purrfectly safe for travel!   
AG: IMPS? THOSE THINGS ARE SHOWING UP AGAIN? AS THOUGH WE DON’T HAVE LIKE NINETY PROBLEMS HAPPENING ALL AT ONCE ALREADY.   
AC: :3 it’s not that bad, really! you should kill some too if you find any on the way over.  
AC: :3 ct and i are halfway up our echeladders already, and you’re not even ten rungs up! that’s just sad, karlkitty, no wonder at ended up hurt.

Karl bristled, glowering at the phone while the voice in his head shouted triumphant the truth of her statement; it had been his fault. He was weak, and the few steps of the echeladder he’d taken in his own world and by assisting Alice in her ascension wouldn’t be enough to get them much farther.

AG: YOU’RE RIGHT; I’LL WORK ON THAT AS SOON AS I CAN TAKE A FIVE SECOND BREAK FROM BABYSITTING TERI TO GO GALLIVANTING OFF TO THE KILLING FIELDS. SHALL I BRING BACK SOME SCALPS FOR YOU, CATGIRL?   
AC: :3 hehe! that’s the spirit! it’s fun, you’ll see. anyway, i drew you a map!

\-- artfulCleopatra [AC] has sent you [maptocandymountain.jpg](http://i345.photobucket.com/albums/p386/half_life_wolf/maptocandymountain.jp)! --

AC: :3 sorry in advance if you can’t read it, the picture quality on my phone is kind of pawful.   
AG: YES. YES, THIS IS ENTIRELY YOUR SHITTY PHONE’S FAULT, AND HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FACT THAT THIS WAS APPARENTLY DRAWN BY A FIVE YEAR OLD WITH POOR MOTOR COORDINATION. I DO NOT HOLD THAT FACT AGAINST YOU AT ALL.  
AG: ALSO, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS THAT THE GATE IS SUPPOSED TO BE ON TOP OF? ARE WE BRAVING AN ACTIVE VOLCANO HERE, OR WHAT?   
AC: :3 no, silly! it’s… a staircase. a golden staircase.   
AG: I AM JUST GOING TO PUT IN HERE THAT THAT WAS IN NO WAY CLEAR FROM CONTEXT.   
AC: :| don’t be mean, karlkitty!  
AC: :3 and start walking!! i know the good senator there can’t bear your weight right now, so you’re going to have to jog fast!   
AG: DID YOU ACTUALLY JUST INSINUATE THAT I AM FAT, NELL?  
AG: I AM HURT. HURT AND ALSO OFFENDED AND ALSO HURT.  
AG: HOW WILL I EVER SURVIVE IN A WORLD WHERE YOU DO NOT HUNGER FOR MY LEAN AND MUSCULAR FLESH AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY, STARING OFF INTO THE MOORS WHILE YOU SIGH WISTFULLY AT THE THOUGHT OF MY MASCULINE FIGURE.   
AC: ;3 oh, i wouldn’t worry about that!  
AC: ;3 hunk rump has nothing on you~   
AG: WELL NOW THAT I’VE GOT MY QUOTA OF AWKWARD SEXUAL ADVANCES IN FOR THE DAY, I’LL GO COLLECT TERI AND GET THIS PITY PARTY ON THE ROAD.   
AC: ;3 it must be hard to fill those when gt isn’t around!   
AG: YEAH HITTING ON ME IS KIND OF HIS JOB. IF THE POLE-VAULT-INTO-KARL’S-PANTS WERE AN ACTUAL EVENT, HE WOULD GO HOME WITH THE GOLD EVERY TIME.  
AG: …JESUS WHY DOES EVERY CONVERSATION I HAVE WITH ANYONE LATELY ALWAYS END UP COMING BACK AROUND TO EGBERT. IT’S LIKE A DOUBLE-REACHAROUND WHERE I’M THE ONLY ONE GETTING FUCKED OVER.  
AC: ;3 ooh mister egbert, oooh~  
AC: :3 well, stop daydreaming about trolls and get your behind in gear, mister! gary will be getting lonely all by himself!  
AG: ON IT.

* * *

Timm Martin watched his friends depart, the dragon’s scales shining in the sunlight, and sighed, leaning further into the minotaur’s furry chest. They weren’t so bad, really—to be honest, most things people were frightened of weren’t, once you took a moment to calm down and exercise some logic and understanding. Animals made sense, in a feral sort of way; they did what they did to survive, and protect the gene pool, and pass along their DNA to the next generation. For the most part they didn’t maim without purpose, didn’t kill when they weren’t hungry or threatened, and weren’t cruel.

The minotaurs certainly weren’t. This one bent its head to huff warm breath in his face, blowing back the hair of his Mohawk that had flopped forward onto his forehead, slick with sweat and plastered there. His whole body ached, felt grimy, but his bones had been pushed back into place and set with a snap, and now there was but an ache as they healed. He would probably never walk straight again, but that was alright. Sooner or later, he would have a new body, and the minotaurs would watch him until then.

GG: i have to admit, i’m a little bit impressed.  
GG: and terezi didn’t figure out that you knew?  
GG: what are you up to, i wonder.  
AT: uM, nOTHING, nOTHING BAD, i MEAN,  
AT: bUT HE TOLD ME NOT TO SAY ANYTHING TO THEM, iS ALL,  
AT: aFTER i, yOU KNOW, wOKE UP,  
GG: so you’re not mad at me? :0  
AT: wELL IT IS KIND OF, oNLY FAIR,  
AT: i KILLED YOUR LUSUS ONCE, tOO,  
GG: but you’re mad.  
AT: uM, A LITTLE BIT,  
AT: iT WAS STILL KIND OF UNCALLED FOR,  
GG: good!  
GG: hold onto that feeling.  
GG: it’s good for you to be mad at me!!!  
GG: i’ve been awful to you all session.  
AT: i DON’T THINK i CAN, uH, sTILL DO BLACKROM, jADE,  
GG: that’s okay. honestly, i think all those guys are being a little silly!  
GG: cute, but silly.  
GG: there will be time for sloppy interspecies make-outs after everything is over.  
AT: oVER?  
GG: really over. look forward to it.  
GG: and get going, already! tg will get mad if the timing is off and he has to clean up our mess.

Timm Martin, staring out over his land as his consort lay him onto the smooth rock of the mesa, suddenly felt that he was looking forward to a lot of things. Smiling dreamily, he closed his phone, watching the sky—surely, Jade could still see him, wherever she was. “See you soon,” he murmured as the monster raised the lance, hardly feeling the blow as the dull tip punched through his ribcage like a knife through cardboard.

With a sigh, Tavros Nitram went to meet his destiny.

* * *

The staircase was, as promised, made of gold, though it had taken significantly less time to locate it than Karl would have assumed, even with Nell’s hastily drawn map as their only guide going forward. It was also huge, as delicately built as a sculpture made of glass, and indeed looked nearly translucent in places, sparkling the same color as Lemonsnout’s plated scales in the sunlight. The dragon was drawn to it instantly, putting its snout up close to the nearest step and extending a leg forward; the structure groaned ominously under its weight, but Lemonsnout paid it no mind, instead tarnishing the design with putrid dragon spit that corroded the gilded metal before their very eyes. Karl whistled and the dragon came back, swishing its tail and sulking.

“I think he likes you better than me,” Teri commented with a pouting air, and thwapped the dragon across the nose again, upon which time it took up a persecuted look of unjust punishment, and Teri cackled.

“That thing is like a damn dog, I swear,” Karl muttered, scuffing his shoes against the ground before cupping his hands around his mouth impatiently and calling out, “Fuck, Nell, we don’t have all day! Where the hell are you guys?”

“Right here!” came a cheerful shout from behind him and then suddenly Karl was on the ground again, coughing and spitting out dust as Nell straddled his back again, kneading at his shoulder blades like a cat. Having half expected this, Karl could only grumble and roll over to throw her off, staggering to his feet with a pained scowl. “We were just doing a last-minute sweep for imps while we waited,” the girl explained, primly dusting off the front of her longcoat with poise that Karl would never have believed for a second that she possessed, if he hadn’t seen it firsthand. “Did you run into any on the way here?”

“A few,” Teri told her, grinning widely and patting Lemonsnout’s flank; if dragons could smile, it was certainly doing so, and the bubblegum pink tongue darted out again to swab black oil stains off its maw. “We took a couple levels in dragon handling.”

“Animal husbandry is always a useful skill to hone,” Earl rumbled, coming up behind Nell and securing his bow over his shoulder once more, “but if you will permit me to say so, we have dallied here for long enough.”

Karl mounted the staircase with one foot, itching to be off and away from this place. Already it seemed dull, fading at the seams like the minotaurs had, save for the staircase which gleamed like a beacon, and that made him considerably uneasy. “Agreed,” he growled, ascending a few more steps and motioning for the others to follow. “Let’s go, then. And the dragon goes last—if it’s going to break this thing, I’d like to not be fifty feet up when it happens.”

Lemonsnout hissed but sat back on its haunches, steam rising from its nostrils as it craned its neck around to eye the far horizon warily; Karl couldn’t deny that having a serpentine bodyguard for their mission was coming in handy, even if Lemonsnout’s injury was becoming more and more pronounced. So was Teri’s sprained ankle, he thought, watching her limp her way up the steps to join him where he’d paused, aided with judicious use of her cane, and Karl extended a hand to her, which she batted away instantly. “I don’t need your help, Karl,” she huffed, quietly enough that neither Nell nor Earl could hear, as though either of them would have cared beyond concern for her health. “I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, but you’re—“ Karl started before he could stop himself, and then grit his teeth until his jaw bones buzzed and ached to prevent himself from going on. “I just thought you might appreciate it,” he finished after a moment, looking away, and she snorted and punched him lightly in the shoulder, but said nothing else of it. After another few seconds, Nell bounded up on all fours to join them, the ears of her cap flapping in the wind.

“This sure is a nice thing that Gary built!” she commented, pitching her voice unnaturally high, a cat’s mew. “I wouldn’t have expected it of him, but it’s a lot prettier than the tower I had.”

“I wouldn’t have pictured this, either,” Teri put in, stopping a moment to run her fingertips down the smooth, golden railing before going on. The whole thing seemed to be one piece, Karl noticed, like a sculpture hewn from a single brick of marble, and unlike Nell’s drawing (that had obviously been subject to certain “artistic liberties”), it curved as it went up, a spiral held up by no structure that Karl could see, as though suspended in thin air by wires of smoke. “It must have cost him a lot of grist. Do you have any idea how many imps I had to have Lemonsnout eat before I could even afford this cane?”

“Yes, please tell us more about how your dragon is the coolest thing since canned ham,” Karl drawled, entirely unamused and somewhat shaken. “That’s surely a fun topic of conversation that hasn’t at all been rehashed a thousand times already.” The top of the staircase was slowly approaching, and Karl was suddenly completely unsure that he wanted to meet it. Every time he went through a gate it got worse, the voices in his head kicking up louder and louder, an unholy cacophonous din like all of Dis come to roost in the confines of his braincase. There were demon claws rooted deeply in the folds of his gray matter, every synapse infected, and like a virus-ridden computer with no firewall, one could not stop it—only hope to contain it, and avoid pressing any buttons that may conceivably trigger it. As the gate approached, a growing pressure built beneath his temples, an imagined swelling, something expanding, trying to get free. Karl bit his tongue to distract himself, hard enough that a splash of tangy iron answered him, but it did little to deter his anguish, and he snarled under his breath, a mean and wild noise that sent shivers down his spine at the force of it.

“Just… everyone stop talking, for a minute, okay?” he demanded in response to Nell’s worried look, a desperate plea buried somewhere in his gravelly tone. “I’m trying to concentrate.” Behind him, he could hear his companions whispering as he approached the gate, a swirling, contracting mass of organized chaos bundled into a circular form, but that suddenly seemed fairly immaterial. Everything did. A pulse of energy flowed out from the gate, hovering but two inches above his head, and Karl tipped his eyes back to observe it. A corona of red and blue surrounded the gate, fading to white-green light at the very edge of the circumference, seeming at once warm and welcoming, cold and distant, and a memory stirred, roused, of Solomon hissing in his ear during a particularly boring Psychology lecture.

“Have you ever heard of Schrödinger’s cat?” he’d asked, voice low and monotonous, absently sketching a box in the margins of Karl’s notebook. “It’s a thought experiment, perhaps one of the most famous with laypeople. It works like this. Say you have a box, an ordinary cardboard box like this one. Maybe not airtight, but certainly secure. Now, say there is a cat in this box, as well as an unstable isotope and a vial of poisonous gas with a Geiger counter attached. The gas is rigged so that when the Geiger counter detects radiation, a hammer will fall and break the vial, thus killing the cat. Then the box is sealed, and left for an unspecified length of time, during which the atom may or may not decay. Now, here is a question: is the cat alive or dead?”

Karl had rolled his eyes derisively and leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest; “It’s dead, obviously. You sealed it in a goddamn box with no air holes and no food, of course it’s fucking dead. Is this one of those basic intelligence questions, or what?”

Solomon laughed, but it was not a nice sound, and something in Karl’s stomach had flinched away, shrinking and receding, scorned. “You’re thinking too literally, Karl,” he chided. “In truth, by this paradigm of quantum mechanical thinking, the cat is neither alive or dead to an outside observer—it is both. The experiment was meant to show a fundamental flaw in the earlier systems of mechanics.” For the first time in what had seemed like months, Solomon had smiled, if thinly. “But they’re wrong, you know. The cat is both alive and dead. The conclusion is inevitable.”

Now, standing before the gate, Karl shivered, a reaction electrical and bone-deep, and felt his heart race as he extended an arm upward towards the gate, knowing exactly what Solomon had meant. Alive and dead, one contradictory thing and another. He could feel the voice, the alien presence, pouring into him from a thousand cracks in his mental dam, filling him up like water fills a glass, flowing around the parts of him that were already there and filling in any crack it could.

“Time to go back in the box,” he told no one in particular, and could have sworn that in the distance, someone was laughing at him.

* * *

 _This time, it’s different. That’s what you notice as soon as static stops crackling around you like a poorly tuned radio, fading into dim white noise in the background and nothing more. Everything is dark, as always, but there is a distinct sensation of standing, of being on firm mental ground. Looking down at yourself, you panic; your hands are gray as stone, your nails black and sharp. Cursory examination of the inside of your mouth with a tongue suddenly gone rough like a cat’s reveals teeth like broken arrow heads, tossed into your gums seemingly every which way, a jumble of deadly machinery ready to rip and tear and maul._

Your blood runs cold. This is not your body, but it is your soul, trapped somewhere else, in an exiled plane.

“Are you alive or dead, then?” a bright but biting voice asks from behind you, and you turn with a cry, hands bent to claws and held before your chest, defensively tensed until you notice that your otherworldly visitor is actually someone you’ve longed to see. Before you stands Solomon, pasty, pale, human Solomon with his horn-rimmed glasses and his “hip” Snakes on a Plane promotional t-shirt, the one he always wears when he’s coding. Then he laughs, shallow and frail, and goes on without being prompted as you stare, slack-jawed. “I’d say dead. This is where they send you, you know. When you’re not needed anymore. When they come back. We’re parasites, in every sense of the word. But it’s not really our fault.”

You blink dumbly. “It’s not?

“No,” Solomon says, and his voice is grim. “It’s his. And you don’t belong here.”

There is a sucking sensation, like all your marrow being siphoned out your feet, and then darkness again, painless and complete.

You are really getting tired of this nonsense.

* * *

Karl was on his back again, breathing deeply as Teri hovered over him, her lips flushed red. His arms and legs ached, a dull pain in his chest and stomach, and Teri’s hands were resting hard over his abdomen, applying pressure as she bent in again, her ear next to his chest. His mouth tasted like dust, he thought dimly as Teri exhaled a sigh of relief and fell backwards, sitting sprawled out on the almost supernaturally flat ground.

Immediately, Karl became aware that at some point during his black out, someone’s tongue had been in his mouth. “I’m not sure I’m very fucking okay with this,” he said to the sky, which was cloudy and dark, a deep shade of purple. Indigo, something in the back of his mind supplied, and what was troubling was that he could no longer tell if it was his own consciousness or something else, something more malicious. He shushed it, on principal.

“We weren’t either!” Nell exclaimed, suddenly at his side, wringing her hands worriedly. “Are you okay, Karl? You collapsed and started thrashing as soon as we got here! Earl held you down but there was this… gee, what was it?”

“It was some sort of force field,” Earl intoned stoically, making no comment on the logic of such phenomena existing much less affecting one of his friends. “It burned me when I got too close to you.” He held up his arm as an example, but the burn wasn’t too bad, looking more like a mild chemical peel on his forearm than anything.

“So, not a strong force field, then?” Karl scoffed venomously, trying to sit up and failing, finding it to be too painful.

“It tasted like apple-berry blast gushers,” Teri giggled, and then fell backwards as well.

“She’s a little woozy,” Nell explained in a stage whisper, bending in close to Karl’s ear. “She had to get right in the middle of it to give you the breath of life after you, um, passed out.” Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Nell wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled into his neck, holding on tight. “We really thought you were dead, Karlkat.”

“And you can’t be dead,” Teri admonished him, slurring her words slightly. “We haven’t found your quest bed, yet!”

“I don’t want to be dead even for that,” Karl moaned, pushing Nell gently off and taking a moment to examine himself. Alright, all joints seemed to be working properly, no tendons torn, nothing too broken or out of place, just a strange, full-body ache as though he’d been hitting the weights too hard the day before and wound up hurting all over. There was an odd sense of violation, too, of something rummaging through his thoughts and memories like a child through a candy drawer, throwing out things it didn’t like. There were still more holes now, though nearly everything recent seemed intact

Poking around in his own head was an introspective nightmare, and Karl shook himself out, sitting up enough to notice that his head was pounding, even though his equilibrium had returned and the pressure on the inside of his skull was gone, and that his phone was buzzing again. “Hold on, I gotta take this,” he muttered, waving off Nell’s continued look of concern and Earl’s stern frown. “Why don’t you guys go find Gary? I’ll watch Teri and the dragon.”

Teri sat up as well, standing on trembling legs, and tossed her head, clearly disagreeing with that plan. “You can watch Lemonsnout. I’m going to go get a start on locating your quest bed, Karl. Your little epileptic fits are getting worse; you might need it sooner than later.

Nell and Earl exchanged glances, a difficult task when they were standing beside each other and there was an over two-foot height difference between them. “I think we should all stick together this time,” Nell suggested. “We end up losing more people when we’re split up. Timm—“

“Is fine,” Karl grumbled, his phone vibrating again and his stomach flipping sickly. Lemonsnout rumbled deep in its throat, obviously also concerned, and sat down behind him so that Karl could lean against its warm flank for support. “And so am I. Look, Solomon needs something, I guess—I’ll see you later.”

“I don’t like this,” Nell complained, but Earl steered her off with a wave in Karl’s direction and she seemed happy enough again. Teri offered him a mocking salute and disappeared off after them, and Karl removed his phone from his pocket, suddenly filled with trepidation.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering abysmalGuardian [AG] at 23:23! —

TA: kk, are you there?  
TA: thii2 ii2 iimportant. extremely iimportant.  
TA: ii am not kiidiing you u2ele22 bulgeliicker, je2u2, piick up your damn phone.  
AG: SORRY SOLOMON, I WAS KIND OF BUSY HAVING A GODDAMN SEIZURE OR SOMETHING OVER HERE. FULL ON FOAMING AT THE MOUTH, SWALLOWING YOUR OWN TONGUE BRAIN MELTDOWN, OKAY?  
AG: MANY APOLOGIES FOR PRIORITIZING THAT OVER TENDING TO YOUR PICKY ASS.  
TA: ii know you won’t beliieve me, but thii2 ii2 actually a good thing. kiind of a reliief for me, even.  
TA: but that’2 not what’2 iimportant riight now. you have two get me iinto the game, kk. quiickly, tiime ii2 runniing out.  
AG: SHIT, THAT’S RIGHT. WASN’T I SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR SERVER PLAYER?  
TA: ye2. the tiimer ii2 runniing out fa2t now.  
AG: …FUCK. FUCK!  
AG: SOLOMON, I… SHIT, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SAY THIS.  
AG: I DON’T HAVE A COMPUTER. I DIDN’T BRING MY LAPTOP, AND I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE ALCHEMITER IS, SO I CAN’T JUST MAKE ONE. NOT TO MENTION THE BETA YOU GAVE ME…

Karl shivered, something hot and wet pricking at the corners of his eyes. He’d been stupid. Stupid and useless and negligent and now Solomon was going to suffer for it. What would happen to him? He couldn’t get into the game, even if he was someone else’s server player. Did that mean he would die, rent apart in a fiery explosion or crushed by fallen buildings or vaporized by cleansing holy flames? Would he perish alone, forsaken by all the friends he had tried to save from the incoming apocalypse, betrayed by his best comrade who was too goddamn braindead to remember that he needed to bring a computer on this little joy ride?

There was no time for crying, Karl reminded himself, even if no one was around to see and he could break down sobbing with impunity. He had to do something, had to figure out a way, had to—

TA: kk, calm your 2hiit, man.  
TA: don’t you thiink ii planned for thii2? ii have friiend2 iin hiigh place2.  
TA: or, at lea2t, alliie2 commiitted to endiing thii2 damn game.  
AG: GODDAMN IT SOLOMON THIS IS NOT A TIME FOR ENDLESS LINES OF CRYPTIC, CIRCULAR BULLSHIT THAT LEAVE YOU FEELING SMUG AND ME CONFUSED ABOUT EVERYTHING.  
AG: YES I KNOW THAT YOU ARE A SUPER GENIUS AND PROBABLY THE NEXT BILL GATES OR SOMETHING, CAN WE MOVE ON? WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE A HARD-ON FOR NOT GIVING ME STRAIGHT ANSWERS THESE DAYS?  
TA: you’re riight, ii’m wa2tiing tiime. for once you’re not the one off on some wiildly iirelevant, profaniity-laden tangent.  
AG: DAMN STRAIGHT. SO WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT THIS, GODDAMN IT? I CAN’T JUST LET YOU DIE.  
AG: YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER. WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITHOUT YOU?  
TA: kk, 2eriiou2ly, you have to keep calm. everythiing wiill go much 2moother.  
TA: fiirst, check your jacket pocket.

Grumbling and flushing, Karl set aside the phone and unzipped the deep pockets of his bomber jacket, fishing around in them for a long moment, as thoroughly as he could, and came up with nothing.

AG: I’M TELLING YOU, I DON’T HAVE THE DAMN BETA.  
TA: you’re not thiinkiing clearly, kk. try agaiin. And 2eriiou2ly, plea2e hurry.  
AG: WAY TO CALM ME DOWN, JESUS. OKAY HANG ON.

Taking several deep breaths, Karl closed his eyes and tried to be calm. He thought of peaceful fields and cool valleys, icy mountain streams winding through hills, of the comforting darkness of true sleep. He thought, unbidden, of a human face, thick square glasses and buck teeth and shaggy black hair that spilled over his forehead, and in the moment before he caught and berated himself, Karl was calm.

And, more than that, happy.

With that thought, he plunged his hand back into his pocket and, this time, managed to close his fingers around a thin, rectangular package, drawing it out.

AG: FUCK. WHAT KIND OF BLACK DEVIL MAGIC IS THIS?  
TA: iit’2 called, ‘you put iit iin your pocket to begiin wiith, you colo22ally unob2ervant nook2taiin’.  
TA: now, for the biigger problem.  
AG: YOU MEAN THE FACT THAT I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO RUN THIS DEMON DISC ON? YEAH, THAT IS KIND OF STILL AN ISSUE.  
AG: THAT DIDN’T STOP BEING A THING OR ANYTHING.  
TA: no, but iit ii2 pretty ea2iily fiixed.  
TA: iif you’ll get off your a22 for two 2econd2 and walk forward about two hundred feet, you’ll fiind a rock wiith a trea2ure che2t under iit.  
AG: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE GODDAMN KIDDING ME.

But he wasn’t. Scrabbling to his feet, Karl staggered forward, barely noticing his surroundings beyond the fact that the ground was flat, shiny, and slippery, some sort of gemstone that seemed almost organic in nature, shot through beneath the hard surface with a network of veins in the rock that could have been pulsing purple blood vessels. The stone was vaguely luminescent, too, as the staircase had been, providing light in the stead of stars or suns. Everything had a purple ( _indigo, goddamn it, indigo, don’t you ever listen you musclebeast fucker, am I always this retarded?_ ) hue, tinted darkly, but the rock stood out like a sore thumb for being the only structure in the near distance not composed of white-purple gemstone. “Lemonsnout, I need you,” he growled, throwing his shoulder against the rock and finding that, stubbornly, it refused to budge.

Still leaking smoke from its nose and mouth, Lemonsnout dragged itself over and sniffed at the rock once before swatting it with its paw, bowling it over and then batting it between its two front feet, rumbling deeply like a big cat. Karl had no time to find this funny, or even strange, instead getting down to fish the also surprisingly heavy treasure chest out of the hole. It was large, about the size of Karl’s bedside table back home, and after he’d lifted it he had to rotate his right shoulder a few times until it popped, clicking back into the proper place. The chest was, of course, locked, with a computer input terminal set incongruously into the ancient oaken front.

AG: YOU SEEM TO HAVE YOUR GAMESHARK OPERATING PERFECTLY OVER THERE, WHAT’S THE CODE FOR THIS THING?  
TA: up, up, down, down, left, riight, left, riight, b, a.  
AG: FUCKING SERIOUSLY?  
TA: ye2. would ii joke about thii2?  
AG: YES.  
TA: okay good poiint. but that’2 defiiniitely the code.

Grumbling at the almost visceral stupidity of this, Karl punched in the code and gave a triumphant shout that startled Lemonsnout out of its rock-related meditations when the lid popped open with a slow hiss of dead and stale air. There was definitely a computer in there, and a shiny, new model, too, and Karl lifted it out with both hands, reverently, setting it on his crossed legs and turning it on.

TA: all 2et?  
AG: YEAH. LET’S FUCKING DO THIS.  
TA: let’2 make thii2 happen.

* * *

Teri Penelope (“the last ‘e’ is silent”) did not like a lot of things about this game. She didn’t like not being able to see, or properly taste. She didn’t like being human, soft and squishy and breakable. She didn’t really like having to leave Timm (for he was still Timm, as she was, sadly, Teri) with his consorts, though Strider would probably have been proud of her for it given that it left him and Aradia (who was certainly Aradia again now, and probably partying it up with Dave in another dimension even as they spoke) with fewer messes to clean up.

And she didn’t like this world. There was something bad about it, something so insidiously sinister that it was nothing more than a lurking presence squatting on the edge of her consciousness like an unwanted houseguest overstaying its welcome, drinking all her mental orange juice and forgetting to flush the mental toilet. It invaded everything, every innocent and harmless click of her cane against the hard and treacherously smooth ground, coloring everything a dangerous red in her mind. Nell seemed happily oblivious—Teri could hear her humming cheerfully as she skipped on ahead—but Earl had fallen back too, restringing his bow and holding it at his side, ready for action.

“Nell found a cave,” he narrated for her dutifully, and indeed Nell’s happy shouts and purrs and exclamations had taken on a hollow, echoing tone now, reverberating off stalactites and close, closed walls. “She’s going into it. Oh dear. Do you think I should—“

“Stop her? Yeah, probably, but this is more interesting. Anyway, Gary might be in there.” Might definitely be in there, Teri amended, knocking the tip of her cane against an empty pill bottle, which clattered away and rolled to a stop near what she judged to be the mouth of the cave. It really was hard to tell, when she was both smell-blind and blind-blind. “You first, big boy.”

“As the lady requests,” Earl told her humbly, and Teri had a quiet snicker to herself over the thought that chivalry in western civilization might not be dead just quite yet before following him.

Teri, in fact, rather liked caves. They were dark, and even catgirl Nell couldn’t see properly in the dark, which put everyone on roughly the same footing. In fact, she was probably better at navigating caves than most people, especially at triangulating distances around the echoes. She’d had years of practice, after all. So it was that she let herself fall back and enjoy the cave at a leisurely pace, running her hand along the smooth and slightly damp wall of the cave. The path sloped downward gently, then steeply, then gently again, carrying them down into the heart of the planet, the corridors sometimes narrowing or widening, the ceiling now ten feet high, now inches above their heads. Nell was better than any light, a constant stream of inane commentary guiding her through the tunnels; all she had to watch out for were Earl’s heavy footsteps so she didn’t run into him, and she was golden.

Which she managed, until Nell’s “Woooooow!” exhaled with bated breath and Earl’s huff of surprised breath, combined with the sudden open-air feeling and the poor sound quality of the echoes told her that they had come out into a large cavern. “I wish you could see this, Teri,” Nell breathed thoughtlessly from what seemed like far away, and Earl went to join her, leaving Teri standing alone by the cavern mouth. “It’s so pretty! The walls are all shiny and glittery—like rainbows! Lots of rainbows! And there’s a big slab in the middle; is that a quest bed, do you think? Here, it looks like there’s a symbol—three teardrops! What do you think that is?”

“It’s blood,” Teri told her firmly, thinking of Karl, left back by the entrance. What a wasted opportunity!

“You got that right, motherfucking best friends,” a voice behind her intoned, low and deep as the sea, dense as the heart of a star, and before Teri knew it there was a thin but steel-strong arm around her waist, pulling her up against a solid chest, something sharp and metallic pressed up against her throat. She hadn’t even had time to cry out. “Now, where the fuck is Vantas?”  


* * *

There are stars outside your window, so many stars. Thousands, millions of them, and how often do you think about them? Only always, only constantly. How often do you, did you dream of worlds beyond your comprehension orbiting far distant suns, and the civilizations that lived and died and loved therein, drunk on the wine of existence, thought and memory and the ability to forget? How long have you dreamt that somewhere, out there, is your dead world of dreams, barren now and stripped to the bone but still there, still waiting for you to exhume its long rotted corpse and carry away the things it was?

There are stars, and they were yours once, and this is probably the point you were making. You are not entirely sure. You forget, sometimes, when you are not in the blissful trance state that coding provides, and that is the one thing you can forget, where your train of thought was going, because at any time there are thousands of other conductors vying for attention. They are dim most of the time, stars at the end of their cycle, sometimes flaring up, going supernova, and drawing your consciousness back to them for the barest of instants.

Right now there are but two stars in your universe, two suns, one that grows dimmer with every passing moment as the other gains strength, drawing from previous failures. The former is useless, weak and sputtering, an embarrassment. The latter is bright and magnificent and true.

The second star is you.

They gave you pills when you were small, or rather gave him the pills to suppress you and he drank them all down with milk and honey, so sweet, so smooth against his tongue and the worst part is they worked, almost. And if they had you would have been content to languish, content to hold back the other stars, blind their light from him and keep him safe from the awful knowing as he held his girl and kissed her lips and laughed with friends that you can do nothing but recognize (you have seen so many incarnations of them, so many of their stars, that what else can you do but go chasing after shadows, shadows of Cancer and Aries and Libra). You would have, could have been content with that, had they worked.

But the pills didn’t work. Nothing does. And when he was ten years old and still small enough that he and his love were holding hands and skipping stones it began in earnest, and faced with the same path as always you were merciless. Every day, every night you were with him, stealing his stellar fuel, drinking from him, whispering in his ear, pouring in more and more memories of dead things and death until he woke up screaming drenched in sweat and his mother came with a wet washcloth to stroke his forehead and slick back his matted locks, holding him as he shook, vulnerable in the worst, despicable way.

Time passed, and you pulled more and more of him into you, until you were the body, and the pills went to work on him instead. Your mind, your soul, already bloated, surged forth, but it didn’t matter because you still woke up screaming, still crying, in the body of a hormone-addled sixteen year old because you have seen so much, so much, too much, watched them die, watched the stars fade and collapse and be reborn in countless bangs, countless explosions of matter and light and sound and energy, you should be numb to it by now.

You are not. You watch the sky, and count the stars as they fall, one by one.

A whistle, far in the distance. Sirens are sounding. A point of light on the horizon; another star falls, slowly then faster, hurtling down.

AG: THAT SHOULD BE EVERYTHING. YOU GOT YOUR CRUXITE ITEM THERE, SOL?  
AT: ye2, kk. ii am much prepared.  
AG: GOOD. THAT’S… GOOD. I’LL SEE YOU SOON, THEN?  
AT: maybe. don’t waiit up for me, though. ii’m tryiing for godtiier.  
AG: IF YOU’RE TRYING FOR THE ROMEO AND JULIET, “OH LOVE LET ME DIE IN YOUR STICK-LIKE ARMS AS I WEEP FOR OUR STAR-CROSSED FATE” ANGLE WITH ALICE, YOU’RE A FEW DAYS TOO LATE, FUCKASS.  
AT: ii’ll 2tiill get two 2ee her.

You close your laptop. Past this point, you know that your erstwhile companion, his erstwhile companion, will not be responding any longer. Another star dies tonight—

And another lives, reborn.

* * *

When you were smaller, Solomon liked to play games. Not any games, though. It was always the same game, the disc well worn, and he would come over every weekend to play, buying you off with two liter bottles of Mountain Dew and gallon bags of Cheetos for the pleasure of crashing in front of your copy of Silent Hill for about twenty hours at a time.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you would ask, as the ending cut scene rolled and Solomon, invariably, growled and resisted the urge to toss the controller across the room, instead clamping down on it with knuckles gone white with frustration.

“Trying for the good ending,” he would explain, through clenched teeth, and you would roll your eyes dramatically and snatch the abused controller away from him:

“It’s Silent Hill, you goddamn moron. There is no ‘good’ ending.”

He still tried, though, every week, and somehow it is this you are thinking of as you stare at the computer screen, watching Solomon Carter watch the stars. He has grown, you think. You’ve both grown, and changed, and learned things, and gone crazy, and you love him for that, the bastard. Whatever happens, whatever you do, Solomon will always be your best and most trusted, most loved of friends.

 _( TG: you ready bro  
GT: for what???  
TG: to do the thing  
GT: do I have to? i hate doing the thing. it makes me feel creepy. :(  
TG: eye on the ball egbert  
TG: do the sleepy thing  
GT: fiiiiiiiine.)_

This is what you are thinking of, in the moment before you slump forward over the keyboard, and everything falls, yet again, to black.

* * *

 _Heir, can you hear me? Heir of Blood, it is time for you to awaken. Good Prince of Prospit, will you not heed my call? Time is, as always, on your side._

* * *

Wake. Feel the breeze on your cheek, and the fleecy, golden blankets that envelop you like a cocoon. Try to move and feel the ache in your bones, your muscles, overtired and rusty from years of disuse, atrophied and withered like cut roses that no one remembered to place in water until too late. Feel angry at the use of that metaphor. Feel angrier at the fact that you are angry with yourself for no goddamn explicable reason. Sit up in bed, gripping the edge of the sheet hard enough to shred it like the world’s most expensive tissue paper.

Look around and be instantly confused. There are six beds, including your own, and one of them contains you, and one of them is empty, covers thrown back, looking but recently abandoned. Be certain that if you touched it, it would not yet be cool. One bed is in the shadows, you cannot be sure that anyone is in it at all; but the other three are filled with black haired young men and women, set deeply adrift in the drugging waters of sleep, their sides moving up and down shallowly as they slumber. Be likewise pretty certain that you know who they are, and at the same time that you have never seen any of them before in your life.

Not aiding this in any way is the fact that all three have curiously gray skin.

Another stands in the room, a specter, a wraith, a girl with the same gray skin and twisted orange candy corn horns and a smile that glimmers beneath maroon lips, wide and full. She wears a hood, and her arms are spread wide for you. “Good morning,” she whispers, moving towards you to brush the stray hair from your face, clawed fingertips lingering on your skin. “Or should I say, good evening?”

The voice is familiar, without being so. “Aradia,” say breathlessly, without knowing why, your voice curiously low. “You… I…”

“Have you ever heard the story of the phoenix?” she asks, kindly, sitting at the foot of your bed. Nod along with her, unsure of where this is going. “I rose from the ashes,” she explains. “And so will you. The time has come, I think.”

Look on as she holds up a mirror. See that the visage reflected there within is not you, not Karl Vates, but someone else, someone more sinister. Watch the image flicker, to your human self to this man and back and forth until it stops, and there is a troll in front of you and around you and a troll inside you and suddenly you are nowhere and everywhere and the universe is not big enough for you and the space between nucleons is an eternity for you and.

Hear him laughing as the mirror shatters, and you are cast away, a husk, unwanted, the death knell of another nameless star.

* * *

So, stars. You were on the topic of them. You do that, sometimes, get distracted and then remember. You were busy being elsewhere, for awhile. That’s alright. You’re here now.

And one of them is falling now, as you watch. There is an apple in your hand, glistening, unnatural in origin and purpose, and you toss it in one hand as the program you executed ravages computers across the country, across the globe, burrowing into machines and pulling out metaphorical wires, disemboweling them as thousands of holes in plains, in mountains, in tundra permafrost open, gaping, to the sky for the first time in decades, maybe the first time ever. All around are sirens, and the sound of rocket fuel being consumed, trails streaking across the sky. Where are they going? Where will they be? It does not matter, individually, for the end course will be the same, and you will not be here to see it.

How could Karl, poor, sweet, insignificant Karl, have possibly known that the disc he put in would release a virus that would, in four days exactly, decode the most heavily encrypted security systems in existence and set off as many warheads as there are visible stars in the sky? He could not, of course, bless his heart, though even if you’d told him he wouldn’t have believed you.

It’s alright. That’s all done now. The star falls over a distant hill, and a cloud of dust kicks up. The sky is burning now, a sort of umber shade, and a wall of dust is rushing towards you; you can no longer see the stars. Your duty is done. It is time, having burned all the bridges, to move on.

You bite into the apple as the Armageddon you are the architect of sweeps forward, and the last of the old star is stripped away.

* * *

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] at 00:00! --

CG: HEY, FUCKASS.  
CG: EGBERT.  
CG: JOHN.  
CG: LOOK, I KNOW YOU’RE BUSY WITH SHIT RIGHT NOW, BUT THIS IS IMPORTANT OKAY.  
CG: KARKAT VANTAS NEEDS TO SPEAK TO YOU, AND HE DOESN’T HAVE MUCH TIME.

 **END OF ACT ONE**


	9. Intermission

What are you doing here, anyway?

just killing time serket  
that was a joke obviously  
seeing as im already dead and all

\---

Here is the room: large and white, the sky a milky dome. There are no exits, no entrances, no windows, only one unbroken seam of smooth pale walls. This is the cell she holds you in, because it amuses her, as the three of them are seated at the pentagonal oaken table, long fingers flashing over checkered squares. One is cloaked, one hooded, the third garbed in torn and tattered red suits, embroidered in gold and black thread and dyed in his own blood. They pay you no mind as you sit up, holding your head, and struggle to your feet, leaning heavily against the curved wall.

The cloaked man extends a hand as you watch, his breath a death rattle, the clack of his joints the creak of gravestones, and carefully picks up a piece, drops it in place, picks up another. Your vision now unobstructed, you are free to view the game board sprawled out before them, checkered like an aerial view of farmland, decorated in the traditional ivory white and bone black. The pieces are raw, edges sharp, looking hand-carved and hewn from stone—or, if not stone, then something sickly organic that you care not to think about.

come on we dont have all day

You sure a8out that, Strider?

let me just check my watch  
yep looks like its on about half past i dont give a fuck so lets get this show on the road

Taking a cautious step forward, you disengage yourself from the wall, watching the man’s dark and threadbare robes shift around a thin arm as fingers devoid of skin and blood and cartilage peek out again from the edge of his hollow sleeve, the tips of phalanges coming together on either side of a tiny, carved skull.

Somehow, you are unsurprised to find that Death only plays black.

White was once a color of his element too, though, you think, or maybe remember, or possibly absorb through osmosis of the current surroundings. White, and red, and black, and all three are represented here, in part by the boy who is still leaking rapidly congealing ichor as a pool of ferrous fluid gathers around the lion’s feet of his ridiculously ornate chair, reflecting the wooden jackals that serve as his arm rests, and the Dragon’s Eye.

Do you have somewhere to 8e? Is our company not good enough for you?

youre just pissed that i get classier swag than you

That has nothing to do with it!!!!!!!!  
Though no one ever seems to remem8er that I was a god, too. ::::(

thats because you did kind of a cock up job of it  
this isnt rocket science spider troll

Still, no one pays attention to you. Of the two who are actively playing, only one has made a move that you have seen, even if a few pieces already rest off to the side—one from death’s side, three from the hooded girl’s, though of those one is in contention. They appear to have settled the matter by taking both corresponding pieces off the board, one with fangs and nubby horns from Death’s side, the other unassuming, with wild hair and eyes that glower, even carved in wood. You feel as though you have seen him before, in some other life, though surely that cannot be.

8ut no seriously, though. Why are you here?

im waiting what does it look like

W8. Was that irony?

ironically  
no

Carefully, in the manner of a mouse afraid to trip the trap, you move forward towards the metaphorical cheese of understanding, hoping that the bar of holy wrath will not fall down upon you—though where else you could go, is not quite clear. It seems obvious that you are dead, from the sudden conspicuous absence of thudding pain in your breast to the taste of copper in your mouth; coughing, you realize that someone has slipped a coin beneath your tongue. It is brass, and carries letters in what appears to be ancient Greek.

Still, they pay you no mind.

look are you going to take your turn sometime this century or what  
the suspense is killing me here

Can’t you just skip forward like five minutes and see? I’m thinking!

i told you i cant right now  
im stuck here with you for the moment so you might as well have the decency to be the slightest fraction entertaining

You sound like Kanaya’s human. So frustr8ing!

its hard to keep a hold of yourself sometimes  
fuck i can admit that much  
youve been here too long you cant remember

Huffing, the girl in the golden hood finally makes her move, with a piece that you cannot identify. You know chess, know it well, were on your high school’s chess team for a time before it became clear that they were only dragging you down, and there is no piece that looks like a disgruntled hipster wrapped in a woolen scarf and clutching an axe in one hand. Some of the other pieces you can identify—a knight on his horse, scythe raised, the crowned white king resting off the board (and wouldn’t that mean that Death had won, then? But no, this game appeared played for much higher stakes, all or nothing) –but the rest are new and interesting, and you wonder what their function is.

And that, to a man, they all appear to be but pawns.

Yeah, well, whose fault is that?

his

And now they do turn to look at you, the two with eyes, and you can feel nothing but cold fear as the two of them watch you, blankly. You think of cowering, but, prideful if wounded, you stand your ground, and they turn back to the board after what feels like alternately the briefest of seconds and the longest of years. An uncounted and unknowable number of grains of sand slip through the bell of time as you wait with painfully held breath, and then both of them have forgotten about you again, the horned girl clacking her claws against the edge of the table.

8utcher to… whatever that square was.

jegus serket you don’t even know  
how many games have you done this for now  
half of them  
who the hell let you be godtier in the first place

The girl makes a nasty face at him, but the boy reclines, sprawled over the chair enough to lewdly display the hole in his torso; it looks as though someone attempted to hack right through him, as though taking a dull axe to a particularly old and stubborn tree. The flesh is ragged and torn, dark and almost black where blood has clotted too little too late, threads of organ meat and viscera hanging out. No attempt to tastefully drape his clothing over the carnage is helped, because every time he moves the stench of rotting flesh suffuses the still air, a miasma of death and decay. Someone obviously tried to terminate him with extreme prejudice, someone obviously wanted him dead.

Someone succeeded.

And you have the uncomfortable feeling that you know intimately who it was.

8etter question would 8e, who let you?

if we knew that for sure do you honestly think it would be taking this long

Well, no.

okay so shut your facegash and concentrate on learning this game okay  
i think weve already been over how this is our last chance  
if you fuck it up i swear to roses tanglehorror eldritch blackmoon gods that i will end you

Yeah, yeah, I know. You won’t even have to.

right  
so  
work on that

The world seems to expand and contract around you, and you know that it isn’t an illusion of your breathing, because you aren’t doing that much anymore. Your hands feel stiff even as they shake, rigor mortis settling into your tendons and making them hard, ossified, the wrinkled and browning hands of a mummy. Your drying eyes can only see the table and chairs (two ornate, one plain) and their occupants, watch every small movement that stirs the air in this crypt.

Below, something rumbles; the floor pitches and the room sways, like a bird’s nest precariously placed in the branch of a windblown tree. Through this, unbothered, the boy stands, tucking a silver pocket watch into the blood soaked pockets of his dress pants, not so much as wincing as the skin is pulled taut over the wound, stretched to the breaking point and torn further.

The room tips again, but the chess board remains in place, and Death calmly and collectedly makes his move, to quickly for you to see. Everything is a blur of light and muted color and distant, echoing sound.

its your ass on the line here too serket  
remember that

With that, the Lord of Time, newly minted, dissolves, glasses glinting in the half light, and the hooded woman blinks, frowning slightly, turning back to you at last.

Finally!!!!!!!! I thought he’d never leave.

Then she grins, all teeth and amiable malice, and there is the howl of the Coyote ringing in her voice, the spark of a spider in her heart.

Want to play a game, tr8tor?

\---

Far away, in another place, the tide ebbs as a man with cheeks flushed blue stands at the shore and sings a song that time forgot, the heart of another land, and is content.

But none shall triumph a whole life through:  
For death is one, and the fates are three.  
At the door of life, by the gate of breath,  
There are worse things waiting for men than death;  
Death could not sever my soul and you,  
As these have severed your soul from me

Things, as they so often do, begin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lines are from Algernon Charles Swineburne's poem 'The Triumph of Time'.


	10. Eighth Iteration: All Disastrous Things

_Time is a circle, but it is also a line. Knight's Heir, do you hear me? Will you heed my call? The day is long, but the hunting horn is sounding; let loose your dogs of war and join me, join the one you love. From across the sands of time fate calls you, the thing you are and the boy you were-- answer back, I beseech you. Awaken, the dawn draws near!_

Awake!

\---

There was a nose in Jawwhn’s face, and it was not his nose. Cold and black and wet, it protruded off a thin and furry face, and he found himself staring down the barrel of a loaded coyote. In troll parlance: Yipbeast. But the word ‘coyote’ settled in and stayed as blue-rimmed eyes met hazel, matching yellow scelera: pointed ears, pointed muzzle, a smattering of short, white whiskers dusting its cheeks-- coyote.

Everything was quiet, for a long moment, the silence of catacombs and tombs, a hallowed, somewhat eerie feeling that sank deep in the pit of his stomach and formed a hard core of trepidation. Somewhere above, the breeze whistled, and damp cold was sinking into his skin through the air as moist, hard rocks dug into the small of his back. Jawwhn watched, and the coyote watched, and the wind whispered to itself, and Jawwhn’s husktop beeped.

The coyote moved. It was lithe and graceful, a fish in water, for all that its limbs were like sticks and its ribs jutted out like the bars of a cage, matted pelt plastered up against bone and a thin layer of flesh. It had been leaning over him, but now it went, tail swishing haughtily behind it as it stalked away a perfectly respectable distance and sat, whiskers twitching. It was still watching him. Flipping the computer open, Jawwhn watched back.

TT: Good evening, Mr. Egbert, how good of you to join us. While you were out, I took the liberty of making some additions. Unfortunately, your gate appears to have gone missing, but your store of grist is well stocked and I do think you’ll find my choice of armory for you... appropriate.  
TT: Or that is to say, you will. Soon enough, I should imagine.

The computer, and Jawwhn, and the coyote, were resting in the ruins of what had once been a beautiful, marble-ceilinged foyer and was now an open-air patio, the roof torn clean off and the walls reduced to rubble. Chips of ancient stonework littered the surrounding ground, and what he could see of the massive lawnring outside, which was itself a mess, carpeted in dirt clods with clumps of vibrant grasses still attached, and while the rocky outcropping beyond was lit by the dim blue glow of bioluminescence, the sky above was nothing but blackness that stretched unending, cold and dense as the heart of a neutron star. Behind him, Jawwhn could surmise, lay the manged corpse of his hive, a towering castle that had survived through the ages, housing generations of new wrigglers that moved in like hermit crabs, polishing and augmenting and leaving their mark, making it their own. He didn’t wish to think about that just now, however. If he did, it would give him a worse headache than Rosace did.

GT: don’t you think this has gone far enough yet?  
GT: enough playing around, okay? haha, your demon game is very nice. real funny.  
GT: in the meantime, i am as unamused as it is possible to be, and you know me, i enjoy a good joke.  
GT: this is not a good joke.   
TT: Why, Jawwhn, are you angry? Do you feel... tricked, perhaps?   
GT: okay, fine, you caught me.  
GT: my house is destroyed, my lusus has gone missing, and the local wildlife is looking at me like i’m dinner. what’s this about?  
GT: you can’t still be angry about the bucket thing, right? come on, that was classic, even your tentacle horror blackmoon blooddeath lusus laughed.  
GT: i mean, i think that was a laugh. it sounded like a lisping phlegmbeast choking on a bicycle horn, but it counts.   
TT: I am going to give you a gift, Jawwhn. It may not linger long, but I believe that in time you will come to regard it as the greatest fortune ever to drop into your lap.  
TT: Should I suffer for it, I will take my chains gladly, to deliver unto you the fire you were promised.  
TT: I have made mistakes in the past, Jawwhn. We all have. I put my faith in things and people who could not be trusted further than I could throw them. I paid what was due me, but you did too, ten times over.  
TT: Therefore, one last price. The last time pays for all.  
TT: Whether you accept it or not is up to you. Until then, please enjoy the equipment I conjured for you, and attend to your... friend. He looks lonely.  
TT: Not to mention hungry.   
GT: there’s no hope of getting a straight answer of you, is there?

\-- tyrianTarantella [TT] became idle at 00:06! --

GT: right, didn’t think so.

Sitting up at last, Jawwhn closed the husktop with a click that echoed off crumbling heaps of architecture and captchalogged it, brushing white-gray dust off his standard slate-dark pants and exposed calves. “You’re not going to go away, are you?” he asked the coyote dismally, and received a perplexed cock of the head in return. There was a kind of open and blatant guile flashing in its eyes, quickly replaced by typical woofbeast vapidity, golden orbs like twin harvest moons, reflecting nothing but the glow of the husktop as it powered down. Jawwhn shrugged and stood on legs that were far too uncertain for comfort, curling his toes in his boots as he wobbled and sought purchase, his internal gyroscope recalibrating to a world knocked firmly off its axis.

“Let’s get going, then,” he told it, a bit more brightly and utterly resigned. “I want to see what Rosace got me.” With a deep breath, he turned to face the wreck of his hive, and his life. For better or worse, one way or another, nothing would ever be the same again.

At the very least, it would certainly not be boring.

\---

TG: hey egderp  
TG: congrats on reaching eight sweeps without getting run out of town on a rail i guess  
TG: fuck only knows how you managed that one   
GT: aww, thanks, daevid!!!  
GT: ♦  
GT: your wriggling day is coming up too, right? i mean, we were hatched pretty close together.   
TG: ♠   
GT: do you have to do that every time?   
TG: yeah bro its kind of required seeing as that is the quadrant where i am forced to share space with your worthless waste of breath   
GT: sigh.  
GT: well, agree to disagree?   
TG: egderp this is romance not what kind of beast we are going to throw on the fire for eventide  
TG: have a smidgeon of goddamn class for fucks sake   
GT: bluh.  
GT: bluhhhhhhhh.  
GT: that is what i think of that!   
TG: i literally cannot believe that you are older than me  
TG: look at you flailing your limbs like a stillhatched grub  
TG: it turns my bile sack   
GT: if i was stillhatched i wouldn’t be flailing, daevid.  
GT: i would be… i don’t know. laying here not breathing, i guess.   
TG: shut up  
TG: shut up is what i think of that egbert   
GT: anyway, yours is just a few more nights away!  
GT: and you must be pretty worried about it, huh? you’re slipping, dude!  
GT: i can always tell when you’re nervous about it.  
GT: but come on, jadite is fine! and you will be too, i know it.   
TG: you can feel free to continue shutting your slackjawed drooling shitgash of a mouth at literally any time now  
TG: first off jadite is literally untouchable you and i both know that she could walk right into a subjuggulator convention wearing ghetto clown make up and they would do absolutely jack shit about it  
TG: secondly i told you were not moirails you idiot you dont have to keep going on like that   
GT: well maybe i want to!   
TG: you can take your misapplied pity through the pale quadrant and shove it down your rancorous protein chute you disgustingly obvious bulgefiend   
GT: oh, hahaha. you're such a kidder, daevid! did you get me a present?   
TG: what is this appease the higherblood by bringing him tithes in supplication week  
TG: and dont try to change the subject i know youre just dying to play hide the holebeast with my meatstick   
GT: no, it’s my wriggling day!   
TG: well yeah but  
TG: look egbert people dont just do that shit  
TG: its weird that you think you are entitled to some kind of reward just because your derpy ass has somehow managed to go another sweep without getting culled   
GT: i guess... it just seems considerate. like, a way to show you care?   
TG: yet again you have managed to confuse me with someone who gives half a rocketbooting fuck   
GT: maybe watching out for me and jadite could be your present!  
GT: uh. you know. retroactively.  
GT: but the point remains, i got you a present last year!   
TG: yeah  
TG: a shitty present  
TG: you never told me what use i was supposed to find for a stuffed bouncebeast anyway  
TG: i regifted that shit the exact second i could and felt exactly zero remorse   
GT: i got you a present this year, too.   
TG: whoop de fucking doo  
TG: allow me to perform the traditional celebration dance of my people  
TG: involving several gestures easily misinterpreted as me inviting you to shove a series of unexpected objects up your festering pustule encrusted bone nook and let them rot there   
GT: boy, you’re sure big on me stuffing things into various parts of myself tonight.   
TG: sit on my bulge why dont you   
GT: haha! you’re a laugh a minute, bro.  
GT: sometimes i really envy you that, you know? all i’ve got are pranks, and those are great, but it’s not really the whole package.  
GT: anyway, you’ve got to go! things to do, songs to write, people to see.  
GT: just remember that no one blames you, daevid. you can’t help what you are, and i think that’s good.  
GT: jadite needs you anyway.  
GT: i'll see you soon.  
GT: ♦

\--ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased trolling timetechGodhead [TG] at 18:47!—

TG: …♦  
TG: jackass

\---

The great hall was entirely destroyed, but on the lighter side, that didn’t appear to matter much. Taking stock of the ruinous, sledgehammer-happy misfortune rained down on his poor castle in the form of technological wizardry, Jawwhn sat on a toppled sandstone pillar with his face in his hands, observing as the coyote trotted around, sniffing and poking around at things with flat paws. The vast majority of the building had collapsed in on itself like a chocolate melted in the sun, walls buckled and imploding, capstones blocking what remained of the archways they had once supported. Mothworn silken banners in every (official) color of the hemospectrum hung in various states of disarray on what remained of the walls, occasionally draped over downed columns or laying in pools on the floor, tattered and languishing, soon to molder away into nothingness.

In the center of what had once been a magnificent, cavernous hall a perfect circle had been swept clean, as though someone had applied an eraser filter to it. Spotless in perfection, the same someone had arranged two racks: one with a variety of flashy, if archaic, garments, and another containing weaponry, all variations on the theme of ‘sickle’. Jawwhn had never much wanted to be a Threshecutioner, much preferring the idea of a career in the Troubleadoors or Laughssassins, noble professions where his talents in the musical arts and field of applied japery would come in handy, but now it looked as though he had no other choice. The shadows were moving in a rather disquieting manner, he was noticing, and there was the scent of danger in the air, thick and heady like incense.

“Good boy,” he told the coyote absently when it paused by the wire sickle tree and whined, mangy tail smacking against the ground. “For your next trick, maybe you could go find my sprite, huh? Thing buggered right off after I prototyped it.”

And that was a little worrying, considering what he’d thrown into it-- one of several magical dice he’d used in his FLARPing days, dear to his heart. It had swelled, drunk on power, and spiralled into the spastic nexus of the unprototyped sprite like stellar dust swirling into the gooey center of a black hole, and the energy bundle had flashed three times and exploded in a spray of blue slime nearly the color of his blood. ‘Cool!’ he’d exclaimed to himself. ‘Ectoplasm!’ but the sprite had coalesced into a pulsating shape that emitted a blinding light, and by the time he’d stopped madly blinking long enough to squint in that general direction, it had dissolved off again, leaving behind the other six dice and a burn-out shadow on the wall behind it.

So results were still largely undetermined. Jawwhn hadn’t seen any imps yet, either, which would have revealed clues to its spectral form, but that made sense; Rosace had probably slaughtered them all to amass the horde she’d gifted him with. Jawwhn was just beginning to seriously contemplate checking that out, maybe grabbing himself a sweet cape or one of those dashing hats with a feather in it (apparently she’d remembered he’d always wanted one of those-- there were at lest five of them, crafted of all sorts of interesting materials), when someone said, “Nah, I think I’d rather not get involved with that, if it’s all the same to you. You’ve got some pretty bad mojo there, kid.”

Jawwhn blinked, and the coyote stared back at him, implacable, grinning. At least, it looked like a grin. It was hard to tell when the creature in question didn’t have proper lips, and had to settle for pulling skin back to reveal rows of murderous teeth. “That’s impossible,” he said automatically, and then flushed cerulean, feeling silly. “I mean... it is, right? You’re an animal.”

“Wrong!” the coyote crowed, and Jawwhn felt briefly nauseous watching its maw work around the words. It looked like it was trying to chew them before it spit them out. “What’s the saying, you kids are using? Do not pass go, do not collect two thousand riechmarks. No? Wrong? Oh, well, you win some and you lose some. It’s so hard to keep up with your doings lately, I’m not sure why I bother.”

“Stop,” Jawwhn commanded, damming up a stream of fascinating but utterly incomprehensible blather. The coyote obediently clammed up, looking smugly amused. Jawwhn stalked up to it, rationalizing that he’d been going in that direction anyway, and summarily socked it square in the snout. It yipped in indignant pain and glowered up at him, and when Jawwhn glared back, it calmly leaned forward and bit his hand deep. “Ow!”

“Serves you right, doesn’t it?” The coyote snorted, remorseless, as Jawwhn sucked the bleeding fingers into his mouth, black tongue lapping at the already closing gash down the meat of his palm. “Shows you to treat your betters with a bit of goddamn respect, right? I’ve been here longer than you have, sonny, way before your most distant ancestors were anything but a gleam in ol’ Slick’s eye, and I’ll be here after you’re nothing but a ghost in the machine. And I’ll tell you, I’m a bit tired a’ seein’ your kind around here. I know your stories already, all your tricks. It’s time for some fresh blood.”

“Is that why you bit me?”

The coyote bit him again, but lighter, and on the shin this time, and Jawwhn hopped back as though scalded. “Oh, you are a funny one, aren’t you? I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Same to you,” Jawwhn grumbled, and turned to stare aimless at the sickle selection for a long moment, indecisive. There were so many variables to consider, and he was rather at a loss for where to begin.

“Oh, ignorin’ me now, are we?” the coyote scoffed, and John could hear the exhale of escaping air as it flopped down, rolling onto its back with limbs kicking in the air. “Mr. Highroad, I presume. Well, go on and pick your poison, then, can’t say it’ll matter in the end. Just go with your gut; you’ll end up happy or dead, and either way no one’s complaining.

Jawwhn paused with his arm half-extended towards the closest sickle. “Don’t you ever shut up?”

“Nope.”

“I could shut you up.” The sickle was in his hand before he knew it, glinting sharp and malicious in the low light, and he tossed it, catching it by the ornately carved bone handle. “I have the technology.”

“Nope,” the coyote repeated, rolling over on its stomach and scurrying away. “Now, hurry up and put on your robe and wizard hat, the grand tour is leaving.”

Instinct took him again, and Jawwhn’s eyes narrowed, mouth moving of its own accord: “I think I’ll stay awhile, thanks. I can handle it on my own.”

The coyote cocked its head again. “You sure.”

“Yeah. Escort missions are no fun, anyway.”

It cackled, and the sound echoed long after it had pressed through a crack in the rubble and absconded out of his life. “Suit yourself.”

And he did. There was a price tag passive-aggressively attached to the handle of the weapon written out in grist, lest Jawwhn ever forget what he owed her, and the product name underneath a captcha code: The Red Menace. There wasn’t much red about it, Jawwhn thought with a frown, turning it over in his hands, save for the strange insignia etched in red carnelian on the pommel. The blade itself was wicked sharp as it sung through the air, and while it felt awkward in his hand at first, it felt oddly familiar, too, weight warm and pleasantly heavy in his hand, and Jawwhn nodded in satisfaction, allocating it to his strife specibus with pride.

Next, he turned to the selection of fine clothing. He’d never been one for fashion, and while it seemed unnecessary to partake, it also seemed impolite (not to mention a waste of grist) not to accept Rosace’s offering. The only truly practical garment was a deep black riding cloak, useful against the chill of the wet wind that was clawing up against the walls, and he wrapped it around himself with mild aplomb, cursing when it got stuck on his hooked horns for a moment and nearly tore.

Then there was nothing left. No getting back into his quarters, and anyway, anything he would need, he already had. It was time to look for his missing lusus, get his bearings, maybe find some answers to the ever-present quandary of what exactly was happening. The path outside his home was long and winding, but Jawwhn started down it, and down the hill into a valley and an old deserted village, a song in his heart.

\---

(Moments in the past, but not many...)

"Surprise!"

Your name is Jawwhn Egbert, and you have just been woken with a whump! of unwillingly sacrificed breath by a half-ton howlbeast to the chest, and it is bright out. The brightness is everywhere, white holy light that scars and cleanses, making you blink back tears when you make the mistake of cracking your tortured lids open a fraction. There is hot, rank breath pouring in over your face, the stench of rotting meat and sour sickly sweet miasma that only serves to remind you that you have not eaten in what feels like hours, could be days. A tongue like sandpaper dipped in hoofbeast glue slides up your cheek, leaving a snail's trail of green-tinged goo behind on your skin.

"Hi, Bec," you groan, half wheezing due to the dinnerplate paw still pressing hard on your sternum, clawtips digging into your flesh just above the clavicle, right below where it would really hurt. A little yipping whine is directed your way, and you add, "Hi, Jadite."

The lusus lets you up, satisfied, and struts off with a smugly audible swish of his tail; sun still exploding behind your eyes, you roll to your side and try opening them slowly, slowly, a third and then halfway and then back down again, no, definitely too much sun, too much light. Clawed hands scrabble in the bed of crushed ferns and long grass that was your sanctuary, drawing long, rutted lines in the rich black loam beneath. You can smell the soil, damp from midnight rain, and the dewy white understalks of the grass blades you uprooted, and the tang of blue blood pooling on your lower lip where with buckfangs you nearly bit through it. You can hear the soft sway of the branches above, of the sheltering trees moving in the breeze, and the ruffle-flutter of dark-winged carrionbeasts hopping from limb to bough; it is peaceful here.

But bright, you evaluate, much too bright.

"Come on, lazybones, get up!" Jadite pipes, poking you in the small of your back with the tip of an elegant, pointed boot; it is an odd mixture of soft and hard, and you know that it must be hand-crafted of wild leather, like all her clothing, lovingly rendered from the skins and sinews of a dozen different vile and ferocious beasts. "I've got a lot of things to show you, and we don't have a lot of time. Daevid will be back from wherever he got off to soon, and he already said he doesn't want to see you. Not yet, anyway."

"He's a nooksniffing bulgelicker," you complain, smacking your cracking lips at her. "You're a nooksniffing bulgelicker. And it's the middle of the day, and your lusus is mean."

You can practically feel her rolling her unorthodoxly chromatic eyes from here, and the shame burns in the pit of your stomach; sometimes you think that Daevid was meant to be your kismesis after all, and she your moirail, but Jadite really needs no one to balance her. For all that she is wild and fierce, a force untamed, she is both mentally stable and only as violent as her lifestyle requires, and even then she is only a danger to beasts unless she cannot help otherwise.

No, between them it is Daevid who is the real hunter, you think, sitting up and blearily observing the wreck of the camp they both share. Two tents, several sacks of equipment and a firepit with a blaze burned down to ashes and still-glowing embers, the hide of a deadly stripebeast strung up between two trees, gore-side up, to dry in the harsh sun. Jadite is the tracker, with Bec beside her, following track-marked footprints in the grass and drops of rainbow blood fallen on rocks and rills, and where she points, Daevid follows-- and strikes. A gleaming sword, half-length, is propped against a beech tree, improperly cleansed; you can still see a smear of dark, natural olive green up by the hilt.

"Daytime isn't so bad," she assures you consolingly, back in the moment, patting your shoulder and wandering away towards Daevid's tree. In the crook of a branch, his lusus is perched, anthropoid figure crouched with feathered arms drawn around his body, a sharp-looking pair of tinted glasses resting just above his beak. "You like it too, don't you?" she coos, tossing him up a square of smoked meat product, which Daevid's Crowbro snatches out of the air with a lightning fast hand, talons closing around the precious foodstuff and brought up to his maw, obscured by pinion feathers. You have never seen his mouth move. ”Yes you do! Good boy, have another.” Crowbro tolerates this fuss with the regal imperiosity of coolkids the universe over, and gives you a look through his shades clearly telegraphed as Bitches love me, no big deal.

“You’re just lucky,” you grumble, watching her lob hunks of salted mystery meat at a huge feathery monster, and regret it instantly. You don’t need to see the way her shoulders tense almost imperceptibly to know that you have made another fumbling misstep, but at least she isn’t Daevid. If she was, your guts would be spilled cerulean and strung up over the campfire by now. A crackle and snap, and your eyes are drawn back to Becquerel, his fur now puffed with static like someone attempted to launder him; a wolf-shaped sparkler, a popping haze of green-white radiation electric all down his spine and glowing like firebrands in his eyesockets. The same radiation that drew him to Jadite, the scent of a kindred spirit, that the reason he pulled her, pulsing an unnatural green, fresh hatched from the caves of the mother grub and raised her well past pupation. Cut her and she would bleed, a thick green that glowed in the dark nearly the shade of sopor slime, a color that would burn at the touch of any normal troll.

“Sorry,” you try, instantly, honest remorse showing through. “I... sorry. I know you can’t help it.”

To your surprise, she turns to you with a slight swish of loose fabric, dress swirling around her, and offers you a smile, true and genuine, a palm coming to rest between two howlbeast ears so much like her own orange horns, calming him. “Don’t be,” she tells you, earnest, watching you with full eyes rimmed in her mutant color, unblinking, and you recall that the same blood that condemns her lifts her up as well, allowing her to walk in the sun’s harsh light with no repercussions at all, no shades necessary. “It’s a blessing, Jawwhn. It helps me see so many things that no one else ever does. Things they wouldn’t even think to look for.” You are stunned into penitent silence for a moment, shamed, and she comes up to pet your hair, smile turning sad. “Now, come on, night owl. I’ve got something to show you.”

Jadite’s tent is all fabric inexpertly dyed a blue the color of twilight, with a scratchy-looking bedroll in one corner and a rickety home-carved table in the center, a scrap of precious linen strewn over and held in place with a lone candle that infuses the makeshift room with the scent of talc and animal fat even when unlit. There are no chairs, but the table is low enough that when she takes a seat at the far end, legs crossed primly beneath her, and gestures for you to follow, it is no hardship to crouch down across from her, your territory plainly staked out.

“Any chance of a midday snack?” you ask, playful, and Jadite rolls her electric eyes, socking you lightly in the shoulder from across the way. “Hey, I was just asking!”

“You can have something after,” Jadite pronounces, and from the folds of her billowing shirtsleeve removes a small wooden box, the lid inlaid with gold and mother of pearl. They could never have afforded such a thing, so you swallow, knowing there are only two options-- either they somehow made it themselves, or they stole it. Somehow, the ideal of ill-gotten fortune telling puts you ill at ease. “Now,” she asks, setting it reverently on the table and squeaking open the lid, “do you know what this is?”

“It’s a deck of cards,” you say slowly, for her apparent benefit, as the object is lifted out and shuffled. She spares you but a moment for an exasperated glance, absorbed in her work and in not nicking the valuable paper squares with her claws.

“What kind of deck, fuckass?” she demands, adorably nonplussed, and you take a closer look. The cards are all face-down so far, revealing a relief of two figures, back to back and palm to palm, against a landscape of indigo ringed with foliage of indeterminate taxonomy. One holds a blade, the other a chalice, and the features of both are twisted up and wrong, pained, a visage of horrified, unspeakable agony. You tear your eyes away, swallowing thickly.

“I know that,” you whisper, fingers clenched like a vice on the edge of the table. “That’s... for the game of Swords and Cups, isn’t it?”

“Give the man a prize!” Jadite whoops, smacking the table with her flat-open palm, lips stretched back to reveal more than just her own pair of buckfangs. “You are absolutely right. Now, pick a card.” The deck is shoved in your face roughly, and you reach out with trembling fingers, accepting it like a death warrant and laying it out before you, still face down, while she deals the others-- four more, to form the shape of a cross. “Since it’s your wriggling day and all, you get a free reading! Now, this pattern is supposed to show balance. Turn over the card on the far left.”

Mouth dry, you obey. Jadite is unforgivably peppy, and her voice is nearly hypnotic, coaxing and cajoling you along even when you don’t particularly want to go. “Oh, major arcana!” she squeaks, excited, while you view a card picturing two trolls, a man and a woman, their horns and bodies entwined. “The Partners Concupiscent. This one represents the past. Something that was important to you, that has either passed away or fallen out of significance. It can be something good or bad, hated or loved, as long as it was something or someone you were deeply attached to other than a moirail or auspistice. Any idea what that could be?”

You shake your head, brow furrowing nearly painfully. “Jadite, we both know I’ve never... had a real concupiscent partner.” Jadite only hummed, looking down diligently at her deck as she reshuffled it. “Honestly, that thing with Rosace barely counted! You can’t--”

“You’re being too literal,” she tells you. “Or maybe you’re not! Anyway, moving on.” Before you can pipe in to register a complaint, she’s already turning over the top card for you. “This is the goal you strive for,” she says, tapping the card just firmly enough to make a small indent in the top. “And it’s another major arcana! How lucky for you.” This one shows a picture of stylized fire, sweeping through a valley, leaving behind nothing in its wake but the shadow of a bird, wings spread, rising up towards heaven. “Judgment: faith, resurrection, transformation, heeding a call. Now that you’re an adult, a lot of things will be changing, Jawwhn.”

“Next,” you instruct, noncommittal, and she flips the bottom card, frowning.

“Ooookay. This is the force that stands opposed to you!” This time the picture is horrible, a mass of tentacles and a man standing in the middle, white lightning held in his palms, and Jadite blanches. “The Devil. I think we’re going to speed this along okay?” You nod, and the middle card is revealed; “Who you are now-- the Fool. Representing new beginnings, ill-informed decisions, childish wonderment. And your future...”

Jadite picks the card up fully, holding it to her face so you cannot see, and throws it down roughly in the next instant. “How about enough of this, okay? It’s silly, anyway, just for fun. The only reliable prediction I have is the dreams, you know.”

“If it’s so silly, then why don’t you show me the card?” you ask, curious, and Jadite is paused in the act of worrying her lip, half-nervous, when a crashing ring and a peal of cursing echoes from outside, signalling a new arrival.

“Oh, Daevid’s back!” she exclaims, standing and smoothing down the ruffles of her dress. “Wait here, okay? He said he’d have something for you. And then we can have lunch! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Before you can answer, she has bustled out, the tent flap falling shut behind her, and you are tempted. It burns in your blood, the inquisitive desire to know, and so you reach out to take the card at the exact instant your pocket beeps, signifying that Jadite has not, indeed, taken your phone off your person as you assumed she would for this cheerful kidnapping excursion. You can hear them talking outside, Daevid’s voice suspiciously raised; something must be wrong. You have no spare brain power to devote to that issue, however, with a card in your hand and a missive to be attended to.

TT: Happy wriggling day, Jawwhn. Daevid should be arriving at any moment with your gift, so I will now extend a most gracious offer to you-- would you like to play a game?

It will not, however, be attended to. Not for awhile, at least, as your phone has slid out of your hand like sand between your fingers. Clenched in your other hand is the card of your future.

In your hand, you hold your own Death.

\---

Jawwhn had uncaptchalogged his wind-bladder-bellowing-irritance instrument, known to the common people as an “accordion” or “godawful racket”, and was busy yowling a tune as melodious as catcalls to himself when he came across the village.

It was, indeed, not so much a settlement as it was a ruin, a future anthropological treasure. Small huts with thatched roofs stood in a circle, some reduced to ashes and others charred black, all still smoking. And in the center of the circle stood the coyote.

“Things have changed,” it said gravely. “You will come with me.” And Jawwhn nodded as it turned, following wordlessly as the instrument let out a sad blat of wind and died, dissolving into a cloud of mismatched data and falling away. The path lead out of the village, down another hill and out onto a flat salt-marsh plain, endless pools sprinkled hodge-podge around, terraced with the winding road between them.

“Who lived there?” Jawwhn asked after they had been walking for long minutes, swerving around ponds and lakes, kicking up gravel and the occasional glowing mushroom. “Someone had to have, right? And what happened? The wind is blowing hard, was there a lightning storm?”

“No,” the coyote said simply, plopping itself down abruptly, and Jawwhn gave a start, skidding to a stop beside it. “Look down,” it instructed, and Jawwhn did, peering into one of the slick black oil pools. Reflected in the surface were stars, thousands, millions of them, burning bright orange and white, seeming to go on down forever.

“It’s pretty,” Jawwhn commented politely, a token compliment offered up towards nature, though it was also true. The view was spectacularly beautiful, almost hauntingly so, like Jawwhn could fall into it and just keep falling, an eternity of tumbling downward into cold infinity.

The coyote ignored his sophomoric comment, probably wisely. “Now, look up.”

Jawwhn did, and was confronted with a vast expanse of nothing.

“Don’t make sense, do it?” the coyote was asking from somewhere insignificant behind him, while Jawwhn stared up, blind, deaf, and dumb, slack jawed. “Everything here’s turned on its head, you’ll see. It wasn’t always like that. Things had a logical progression. You got in, you played, you got out, maybe some folks were killed but that was acceptable losses. Collateral damage. Nothing but what was needed to birth a new... well, spoiler alert, you’ll figure that out later. Maybe you woke me up, maybe someone else did, maybe I just slept for a few more dozen millenia. It’s nice, sleeping. Peaceful. There ain’t enough peace around these parts, let me tell you.”

Slowly, Jawwhn tore his gaze away, and then out at the endless landscape of pools, leading out to a bay and a sea of placid eternity. “It’s wrong,” he said quietly, voice trembling. “It’s not supposed to be like this. Nothing is.”

The coyote nodded, and then he changed. It happened slowly and all at once, only visible out of the corner of his eye and if he blinked he would miss it. One moment there was a coyote, and the next there was a man, half naked and cross-legged, feathers in his long braided hair and a pipe in his mouth. When Jawwhn looked into his eyes, he could see forever, stars and more stars and planets and nebulae and the plains of weaving gold grasses and great lakes lapping against gravel shores and a tree that wound through all the worlds and a frog larger than comprehension and fire, fire, arrows and fire, and the laughter of the gods, and--

Jawwhn sank to one knee before him, clutching at his own skull and keening in agony. When Old Man Coyote spoke, it reverberated down his spine, in every cell and atom, so hard that he thought his body would vibrate apart, a blue mist to drift eternal over the forever moors.

“You have a choice,” he said, in a voice that meant Jawwhn had no choice at all.

\---

The dreams get worse every time. In this one, the one you had this morning, the two of you were seated atop a checkerboard hill, his pale hand in your ashen fingers, tiny and eclipsed by your grasping presence.

“How long now?” he asks, gray eyes gleaming in sunlight that is too bright. You are both splattered in blood that looks too much like Daevid’s for comfort, too much like his own. One arm is curled up useless against his chest, tucked into himself. His hand pulses in yours, scarred with the remembrance of white-hot pain.

“Not long,” you sigh, and your voice echoes, not quite your own, but not quite anyone else’s either. You look out on the blue sky, and the ruined grounds below, and the people hugging and touching and chattering excitedly. Your friends. His friends. All the world is a stage today, and they are the players.

You squeeze his hand harder.

“I’m tired,” he admits next, and you nod.

“Me too. Just a little more, then we can rest. Just a little more.”

For a moment, just one moment, everything is as it should be.


	11. Ninth Iteration: I Shall Never Be Friends Again With Roses

**Wake up.**

Everything is, at first hazy, but that's alright. It's as though you're drifting, aloft in a cloud, carried along by the sweet north wind and the vaulted song of the sparrows, swept away by starlight you wish you could have seen, a thousand thousand points of light beneath your feet and your back and all you can feel is relief, every thought joy at the sweet sorrow that is to be bereft of pain. The heavy red ache in your legs, your breast, your arms, your shoulders-- the lead weight that drags you down day to day is gone, lifted, shuttered up and forgotten, set aside like a box of old toys in the attic, out of sight and out of mind, the sickness dragged screaming from your bones to leave you with peace like a sieve, the tension and despair draining away.

You wake to moonlight, and to the crest of the sun coming orange and purple and pink over the distant line of the horizon; to birdsong, the sweetest melody, save for her voice coming in from the east in dulcet tones of silver and gold, twisting on the wind. She waits, just over the hill, across the valley, her song spilling forth like a river, washing over you. Alone in your tent, you allow yourself one thing: a smile, rare as diamonds, rare as her blood (as yours, too, though yours is garbage, swill running through the gutters of the dark cities across the ocean, you think not of it).

You rise, to meet her and the day. Your cowl lies beside you, neglected, for today you are fresh and free and whole, today you can do anything. You feel light as you stand, light as you step forth, and then you are the light and the light is running through you, pure and crystal and singing, clear as bells. You are the light and the light is you and you are a new man, blessed and touched. You walk to her calmly, admiring, the tall grass waving around you in the wind, and there is nothing to fear, nothing to worry. She will not judge. She will not think less of you for dropping your walls a second to let her in. You have given her all of yourself, and she has taken what you offered and more, and crafted from the shell left behind something beautiful. Your rage, always boiling, always present, has evaporated, taken flight with the pain and let you be, and as you catch sight of her in the sunlight, catch her eye, see her smile, you know that you can be happy. Happy here, for a moment, at rest, at long last. No running. No hiding. No slaughter on the run, fleet-footed with her lusus at your side, his teeth in their flesh, your sword finding its mark and fill of blood. Your poisoned heart beats faster as you pause, time frozen. One perfect moment.

"Hey, Dave."

 _Pain._ Pain, like a forest fire, like a flood, speeding through you, ripping, tearing, devouring. You turn from her, your salvation, and meet his eye, red as yours, round-rimmed shades slipped down the steep bridge of his pale nose. Wheat-blond hair in a mop over his eyes, you hate him, loathe him, and the noise you make isn't human-- good. You aim for those eyes, the eyes that mock you, a tidal wave of rage crashing over you, filling you up full until there isn't space inside you for anything else. And worse, the rage is his, too, rage turned inward instead of out towards the world. You see a shadow of it, revealed in his eyes, those eyes, you want to tear them out, stab into them with pins and pluck them out, ruin him and all he loves. A shadow of your pain, your first pain, buried deep down and echoed, and you hate him with a fury unequalled.

"Get _out!_ " You have never screamed. In wakefulness, in slumber, you are composed save for the howling banshee you become in her service, in her name, tilling the battlefield. You are placid as the still surface of a lake in summer, smooth as the flat of a mirror, composed as your lusus always taught you to be to live, to survive. But now you are the rage and the rage is you and you ride it, ride it towards him, allow yourself to drown in the froth of your hate and come out spitting, a new man, an aspect.

He smirks, flickers, disappears. The tide of your anger spills forth impotent, and your scream echoes anew; you look to her for guidance. Not a steadying influence, not anything a moirail could provide, but a rock to batter the brunt of your anger against, a cliff that could never be worn down in a thousand years. She has always seen your rage, looked into the shrieking heart of it, and met it with a kiss to your lips and a hand in your hair and on your heart and pitied you for it. You turn to her, but what you see is ice, a field of ice, and darkness encroached upon the sky, rolling black thunderheads of smoke and lightning. The trees rise up, claws towards the ruined sky, bare of leaves in this late season, the winter of your discontent. Look again and she is there, knelt at the foot of the queen's hoarfrost throne, chin up and eyes to the sky, glowing dim in the low light, a figure at either side.

They are familiar, these wraiths. They have stalked you before, in the depths of the night, in the dark hours, always walking in your shadow, always whispering with the wind in the trees. To her left, a troll, all conical horns and sharp teeth and the teal blood you hate, a grin as soon as a wink or a nod, black lips cracked. To her right, at the right shoulder of your girl, a girl like her, soft and smooth, skin like paper, hair like ebony, and what haunts you are the eyes, green embers like the heat death of the universe, so familiar. The angels of your despair lock hands behind her head, cupping the crown of her skull, sinking to their knees beside her, and you are stuck.

The ice rises up to meet you, catching your feet, and the flames of your rage, tempered now in fear, are worthless to put them out. You watch as the troll girl speaks--

FOR JUST1C3.

The other answers--

for you.

And together they slit her throat, one with knives and one with claws, pulling at dead flesh as her body dissolves, still watching the stars as green blood spills out. Before you can scream, he is behind you, and the sword is through your belly, beating in time, its pulse through yours.

 _Lub-dub._

 _Lub-dub._

 _Lub-dub._

 _Tick._

\---

 **Wake up.**

Daevid Strida woke to a pain that rushed like adrenaline down every nerve, harbored and encamped in his chest just below his heart, which was beating abnormally fast-- that was normal. The tent was empty, and through the canvas spread above him he could see light bleeding through, warm and rich and deep, which meant the sun would be up an hour hence then, at least. With a huff of breath he rolled to his side and sprung to a sitting position, wincing as he grabbed at his side, but the wound there was internal or all in his head, a dull ache grown sharp that throbbed hot when he pushed at it. Generally, he tried not to push at any part of himself but the soles of his feet these days; even the single horn of keratin and living bone that capped his skull seemed to burn when he touched it, which was itself troublesome.

Be cool, he told himself, and it was so, and the pain waned a fraction, shoved aside. Take stock, he told himself, and he did, reaching for socks and shoes, boxer shorts, t-shirt, pulling each on with painstaking effort to make it look effortless, fabric rippling over the planes of his chest and up smooth columns of his thighs. Watch, pants, shades, couldn't forget the shades, they were the most important part, covering up the evidence of what he was, as though anyone wouldn't know just from the sight of him. No blood need be spilled to know he was abnormal, a league apart.

Finally, his phone, a crucial device, filled already with messages. Largely from spambots (he needed a better firewall right fast) or Jawwhn who dared to think of himself as a moirail instead of a mild annoyance that Daevid was inexplicably and secretly fond of, but one flashed in purple that was not quite tyrian, a canker on the festering sore that was his life.

TT: Good morning, Daevid. The night has waned quite late, but in deference to the measures that you and our charming friend miss Harley take to remain out of the public eye, I have adjusted my schedule to accommodate you.  
TT: This is hoping, of course, that your most gracious self has deigned to remember our meeting at all, and will be arriving upon the hour, but I would never be so crass as to suggest that, once invited, you would stand me up.  
TT: No, only a lowborn lout would leave a lady waiting once called upon.  
TT: Or a highborn lout, perhaps? Regardless.  
TT: I look forward to your company, and to the service I expect you to provide. Your reward will be as detailed, though that is up for negotiation, as you indicated that you questioned my ability to "come through with the goods".  
TT: Oh dear, I appear to have gotten a bit verbose. We shall let it lie, then, with this:  
TT: Mr. Strida, you know where I live.

Daevid closed his phone with disgust and hopped to his feet, stooping until he had pushed his way out of the tent and into the clearing, greeted by the scent of gently charred meat.

"It fell in the fire," Jadite told him with a smile and a half shrug, offering up a bowl full of what appeared from the feathers to be blackened chirpbeast, with a side of leeks flambe. "But it's still good! Here, take some before Bec gets it all." Behind his shades, his eyes flicked up over her shoulder to the edge of the encampment where her lusus crouched, serrated teeth and strong jaws tearing at a rack of ribs from yesterday, streamers of shredded, rotting pink flesh dripping from the bones as flies buzzed around his muzzle. Safe behind his impenitrable wall, his pupils dilated, one pointed ear twitching just a fraction at the sound of snapping bone, the radiation green tongue darting out to lap at spongy marrow, and Daevid turned away, accepting the proffered bowl without a word and stepping over to one of the great stones by the fire, an impromptu bench.

The meat tasted like ash on his tongue, and disolved away with single bites, flesh charred and parting seamlessly between his fangs. Chewing further would only force out another gush of flavor, and already the taste was heavy, stifling; he swallowed down chunks whole, another life taken inside himself, feeding his strength. His shoulder throbbed in time, his side, and when he was licking remnants of coal-fire grease from his clawtips he realized that while he'd been absently watching the crackling flame, she'd been watching him, legs crossed primly, hands folded over her knee.

"You're awfully quiet today," she remarked with soft sign of worry, only the insinuation of a smile now.

It was a familiar dance by then, and Daevid knew his steps well, impressed upon him through the necessity of his facade. "Don't worry about me, Harley, worrying about your cooking skills. This cluckbeast is throwing me off my game." Lash out. Intend to hurt, tease, with a sharp edge hidden under silk, a blade wrapped in swaddling cloth. Hidden meaning: _Drop it, I don't want to talk._

She knew him too well.

"Well, if you don't like it, cook your own food! Protein is good for you, fuckass." A slight pause, and Daevid considered that he might get off easy, with the particulars of the day. No such luck. "It hurts again, doesn't it? Did you have the dream?" Jadite Harley was never one for fucking around, save for sometimes in the literal sense when the moon was right, and he could always trust her to cut right to the heart of a problem, peeling away the unnecessary clutter.

Backed into a corner, Daevid decided to take the path of least resistance. "The sick fires of my soul are burning as bad as ever," he assured her. _Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, but why don't we drop it?_

At times when he looked at Jadite, Daevid was reminded intensely of her lusus: merciless, dogged, willing to dig and dig and prod at a matter until it was lain bare and open for her, bare bones and bloodied flesh exposed to her sight. The way she was looking at him now was familiar, frustrated, halfway to fed up, a kernel of concern buried under her short fuse. "So it was the dreams, then. I can't help you with them if you won't tell me what they are, Daevid!"

His movements were always slight, nearly imperceptible to the untrained eye, but Jadite had been trained and he was sure she saw as he stiffened minutely, tension tightening down his shoulders and back, held hot in the pit of his stomach. He sat forward, hunched over himself and took a breath that came scandalously near to rattling in his chest like a pebble in a can, like something had come loose inside of him, careening madcap around his insides, playing a great game of pinball with his organs. "I don't believe all that magic fairy godlusus prophecy stuff," he told her, point-blank. "They're just nightmares. I had one about falling down stairs once. They don't mean jack shit."

 _Help me._

Her gaze was sharp as thorns, shrewd. "An endless staircase?"

Feeling as though he'd been lead around again, guided towards an inevitable conclusion, Daevid scowled, only the general gist of it visible from an outside perspective. "So what if it was?"

"Jawwhn's having them too." Ah, a non-sequitor. This, too, was familiar, and Daevid relaxed some of his tension, a small gust of breath released. "Not the stair one, obviously, but similar."

"So not just endemic to us mutant scumbloods, then?"

Tactfully, she ignored him. "He's coming over today, by the way. I just thought you should know in case he's here when you get back."

"Does he know he's coming over, or are you going to surprise him?"

"Don't be like that!" Jadite snapped, and then flushed slightly. "But no, he doesn't. Where would the fun be in that?"

"Dunno. We're going to just be a pack of fun today, aren't we? Maybe I can bring Lalond back, we can all have a batshit bonfire while the two of you bond over your doom and gloom card games."

"She's not _that_ crazy, honestly. I wish you'd try to get along with her a little better."

Daevid stood, brushing invisible crumbs of ash off the fronts of his trousers. "I'd be a pretty irresponsible matesprit if I went around enabling your dangerous pale crushes on psychopaths, wouldn't I?"

"You'd be minding your own damn business," Jadite grumbled, a bit cross. Good; he'd pushed her off balance. Now she would certainly let the subject die.

"Yeah?" _Why don't you mind yours?_

Jadite huffed, standing as well. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just don't come crying to me when those visions you've been avoiding come true, mister! I have to get ready to pick up Jawwhn. I'll see you when you get back, and you'd better not be hurt again."

"I'll put my big wiggler shoes on," he told her with confidence, though his blood ran cold.

 _When those visions you've been avoiding come true._

As she turned from him, for the barest flicker of an instant, he thought he could see a crescent of green hung like a halo around her neck.

\---

TG: keep your hat on lalond im coming

The sea stretched on blue and wide and deep before him, windswept crests capped with the glimmer and sparkle of sunlight as the curving line of the coast spread out, fine sands glowing white so harsh that even behind his shades, Daevid was forced to squint. Alone on a clear day, he looked out over the water and saw nothing in the distance, no hint of the mainland that he and Jadite had come from, swimming across the gap on a rainy night with torches and pitchforks in pursuit. Once the sea had swallowed him, swept him down, until teeth fixed in his right arm and brought him back up until his head broke water; a gasp and a crackle of green lightning and four bodies had sprawled on this beach, a short but crucial jump. Somewhere across the water were the spires of the high towers of the city, now sleeping; the ramshackle collective of huts that they had squatted in just past pupation, barely more than a roof of driftwood above their heads as they huddled together at Bec's belly for warmth, his lusus standing watchful guard.

Now he was a man, but the sea was still deep and mysterious and nebulously antagonistic, a world of royalty beneath its waves that he would never have gone near by choice. Sword strapped to his back, Daevid shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the slope where grass transfigured itself to sand, wading out into the surf with a slim, oak wood box in hand. Cold water drenched him, soaked his pants on the inrush of tide and then attempted to suck him back in, deeper into the expanse of ocean rolling before him. Waist deep, he stopped, feet planted firmly on sand over stone, and opened the box. Red velvet inside cradled two perls that shone lilac in the sun, and he picked one up between his claws, examining the glossy surface before popping it in his mouth. Crushed in his jaws, thick liquid like cough syrup spilled out, an impossibly vast quantity, filling his mouth and sliding slow down his throat, every inch of skin it touched burning like cool mint. He grew short of breath, gasping, lines rising on the side of his neck, flesh fluttering as his stomach twisted, repulsed by the sickly aura of the magic.

Still Daevid looked forward, towards the horizon, until a dab of white popped up, grew larger, towards him. A turtle lusus, the great disk of its shell breaking the surf and ever rising, some lost servant called to her side when its charge had grown and gone or fallen in battle, violet reins wreathed about its beaked head. Beady eyes the size of Becquerel's head stared him down as it coasted in, ever larger, riding to a stop just before him. The box slid back into his pocket, Daevid accepted the reins and swung himself up upon the turtle's back with one smooth movement, feeling as though his raw nerve ends had been burned down, cauterized. His back was straight as he leaned forward, flattened against the beast for the sake of dynamic movement, one hand holding his shades in place as they descended, ignoring the shameful way his heart skipped a beat.

The world below was beautifully stark, empty, sand falling down away to a steep undersea cliff and darkness below where the light couldn't quite reach. The turtle sank to ride the border between light and dark, and they skimmed out into emptiness, leaving shore behind as icy water sank into his skin and pulled at his clothes, tiny currents teasing his hair as it fanned out behind him. Water rushed over newly minted gills, flowing inside him like blood, and breathing was as simple as letting the current rush around him. He felt nearly weightless even as his hands shook, and he kept an eye around him, seeking any sign of habitation, of anything at all. No fish swam here in these dead waters, no seals darted across their path, and it was somewhat of a shock when at last another cliff rose up, reaching towards the surface in vain.

Carved into its facade was a sprawling structure hewn by no trollish hands, a cathedral plated in gold and brass that glimmered near the top and sunk to dull obscurity further down, all points and harsh edges and vaulted arches, high windows to nowhere and bas reliefs above the grand front doors. Demons in marble and metal capped every corner, scaled every pillar, a mass of tentacle artistry curling over the rafters and sharp angled sills, and the front stairs led up to the black cave of a foyer, sailed into without a pause. It was pitch dark inside, save for a lone spot of light what looked like meters above and before him, a play of rippled light over the walls guiding them.

The turtle tipped upward, and Daevid clenched his knees against the sides of its domed shell, holding on as it swam for the light, towards warmth and air, and when they surfaced Daevid needed a moment to slick back his sodden curtain of hair before looking around. He had come up in a square of water, surrounded still by gold and fabric draperies in rich red and tyrian purple. It was a small room, that emptied into and faced towards the promise of a grander space, a golden staircase leading steeply up and out of his sight. The walls were fitted with ornate iron sconces, and in them torches that burned ever bright, a low, oily light spilling out and giving everything a tarnished gleam. And then, when he had casually finished taking in the overblown grandeur of the room, he turned his attentions to the woman standing before him, one hand on her hip, a cruel smile tugging up one corner of her plump black lips.

"Fashionably late as ever, Mister Strida."

She was devastatingly beautiful, in the most literal sense. Elegant horns curved up and back, a full set from hatching that Daevid could only envy. Tall and thin, she looked nearly brittle, a blown glass impliment of long lines that terminated in points and corners. Daevid himself was almost awkwardly tall, and not counting the horns she was a few inches shorter than him, but more intimidating was the way her dark, hooded robes flowed around her, tugged by a current unseen and unfelt, hems dragging lightly along the floor; she appeared to be floating.

"Took a wrong turn at Albaquerque," he told her smoothly, keeping his face to hers as he slid off the turtle and found even footing. "Sorry about dripping all over your floors. Must be hell to clean."

"We have people for that," she told him with a sweeping gesture, the wide cuff of her robe trailing after her arm, and he found himself with a mental picture of dozens of lusii, called to her side as the turtle had been, sea iguanas and manatees and great white sharks buzzing about the place with mops and rags, polishing until it shone.

Now she bent her arm towards him, beckoning. "No matter. The day has worn late already. Come, follow me to my chambers."

"Do you plan on talking like a period novel this whole time, or what?" Daevid asked, annoyed, following as she turned from him and mounted the staircase, his hands shoved sullenly in sodden pockets.

"I find it adds atmosphere to the weighted topic we are about to discuss, but fine, if you would prefer: hello again, Daevid, it's been awhile." He could practically feel her smirking at him, though she stared straight ahead. "How've you been?"

"Fine. You still in possession of exactly zero of your marbles, or did you manage to borrow a cup of sanity off some poor stiff since the last time I saw you?"

"Oh, don't be like that. It was nothing personal."

"You tried to kill me. But hey, it's not like anyone's counting right?"

They had reached the top of the stair, with hidden effort on Daevid's part. The room they came out in was indeed spacious, torch-lit, with a marble floor inlaid with smoothly cut gemstones and layers of colored stone and coral, a mural in the shape of a sphere that stretched on to fill nearly the space available, a series of concentric circles intersperced with odd symbols. At the center, a stylized sun. Daevid didn't bother to fixate on it, or give it more than a passing glance.

"I was testing you," she corrected, heading across the room towards the lone dark passage beyond, no hint of candlelight to reassure him. Creeping dread was welling up, unable to be fully quashed by the deep fire of his anger or the ice he layered carefully above it, and his hand twitched, instinct begging him to reach for the sword, to have it find its rightful, comfortable place at his side at the very least. "What sort of servant would you be if you failed to pass the most rudimentary of tests?"

"Not yours," he grumped back, back prickling as their footsteps echoed across stone and gold. "And hey, look at that, I'm not! Guess you'll have to find someone else to prawn this job off on."

"Please, no fish puns," she sighed, put upon, carefully stepping around the substance of his statement. "I get enough of those at court."

Surprised, he raised an eyebrow. "They're still inviting you? I thought they exiled you to the ass-end of nowhere for a reason."

"Of course they did. Fear." She shrugged, and did so elegantly. Daevid could have torn her open, though the loathing was accompanied by a spark of honest, if grudging, fondness, smothered down deep in the muck and mire of his soul. "And fear compells them to invite me back. An enemy is best served in a place where you can watch her, after all. And moreso if you can make him uncomfortable. Being below the water makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?"

"Never cared for anything below sea level much." _Does that make us enemies now?_ "I'm not bothered."

She brushed him off. "You are a creature of the air, Daevid. You want to fly, and the sea is oppressive. In addition, we are meeting on my... 'turf', as it were, and that naturally puts you on edge-- and at a disadvantage. After all, our last arena was on dry land, and your lusus was still required to moderate."

"I thought we weren't talking about that?" Don't tell me what I am. Daevid's glower was full-fledged, eyes wild behind the barrier of his glasses, and still she would not look at him. The hallway was narrow, claustrophobic, with only room to walk single-file; through the darkness, opressive even to a creature of the night, he could hear the ticking of many clocks, and when he reached out a hand, he could feel that the wall was filthy with them, set into the deep metal without seam or ridge, as though they had grown from the gold, a naturally occurring organism.

"How tactless of me," and her words were dripping condescension. Daevid seethed. "Regardless, a moment of your time and then you may be on your way. I'm sure that we would both be better served if you didn't linger here too long. Jawwhn and Jadite will be eagerly awaiting your arrival."

"Not to be crass, but what the fuck did you want, anyway?" Daevid asked, attempting to skip to the point. "I know you didn't just call me over here for shits and giggles, so what did her royal condescension require of me that was so damn urgent?"

The hallway went on forever, as did the bare second spent waiting for her to speak again. "I would like you to deliver a package for me. Two packages, actually; one for Jawwhn, and one for Miss Harley. I daresay it shouldn't be much trouble to you, and in reward, you will receive a present of your own, from me to you, to be opened after your bloodrite tomorrow."

"Why the specific timing?"

"Your gift, as well as Jadite's and Jawwhn's, are part of a puzzle, to which I have the second piece. You can think of them like keys in a lock; each key must be twisted in order, or the lock will remain shut tight. You'll see soon enough, I imagine. A little patience, please."

At last, she stopped, so fast that Daevid nearly ran smack into her back. A click, and a door swung wide, bathing them in deep purple light, etherial. This room was circular, and carved of stone. Daevid heaved a huge shiver that he could no more have turned back than the tide, a chord plucked inside his breast, something deep and instinctive resonating. This room too was hung in lilac draperies-- four of them, each with an eldritch symbol. One looked to be a gear, one to be a sun, one like waves and one as a spiral of energy. He stepped after her into the room and turned cold, each puff of breath exhaled as a cloud of steam. In the center sat a table, round, covered in violet cloth, and above it hung the source of the light, a series of globes suspended in the air that seemed to hum as they spun-- two outer rings surrounding a larger globe, four and eleven respectively, and each a different color and pattern, a planet in relief. When he stood still, Daevid swayed in time to the music of the spheres.

Hung too were mirrors, were the walls, and Rosace stepped before one, whispering to herself, stroking the frame. When Daevid peered in one, darkness flickered before his reflection came up, and in the reflection of his shades he swore he saw the face of his other self, the man from his dream. Heart pounding, he backed away, bumping into one of the miniature planets and sending it slightly out of alignment; it was warm to the touch, and when he peered at it, the surface appeared to flow, like magma.

"Did you make these?" he asked, poking at the dark globe to its right, and Rosace shook her head.

"They were always here. Many mysterious things are, if you only care to look for them." The spell seemingly broken, she turned from the glass and marched up to the table, folding up its protective cloth and opening a hidden drawer beneath, drawing out three boxes-- one wrapped in blue, one green, one red, each the color of their intended recipient's blood. "Take these; keep them safe. Our future happiness rests on your task being carried out successfully and to the letter. _Our_ happiness, mind you, not my own. I trust you not to mortgage the future of your moirail or matesprit based on petty spite for me alone."

Daevid reached out and took the packages, stacked one atop the other, tucking them away in his sylladex and out of sight. Out of mind, too, though her exhortation not to open his yet was still niggling at him, directing his thoughts back towards pure curiosity. "I--" he opened his mouth to say, but was interrupted by a muted screech that reverberated through the floors.

"Oh, damn," his companion sighed, pulling from the sleeve of her robe a long strip of wood, dark with runes in ink and blood. "Time to check on Mother, I see. It was lovely seeing you again, Daevid, but for the time being, you are dismissed."

She disappeared in a poof of smoke that left Daevid coughing. "Flashy snipebeast," he snarled, and blinking, found that the smoke had resolved itself into a two airy words: Vulgar cad.

It was with grace and dignity that he resisted the urge to storm out, instead calmly and collectedly stalking back to his tortoise guide, teeth clenched. The boxes weighed heavy in his sylladex, prodding at him even as he swallowed the second perl, preparing for the journey back. The darkness of the sea below them seemed deeper this time, the light more wanted and saught after, and when he was back to shore he gave the turtle a kindly pat, finding that the day had indeed waned, sun dipping slowly towards the horizon. He stooped to pick up his jacket, holding it at arm's length to keep it dry, and dropped it again, cursing under his breath as he opened his sylladex one more, drawing forth the box promised to him.

It couldn't hurt to open it, he thought. Rosace was always full of rules and restrictions and procedures, chains to bind him and draw him in and hold him. He wrenched off the scarlet ribbon with violence, tipped the box open onto the sand. Four objects fell out: two CD cases, familiar, and two scrolls of paper, one fresh and the other gone yellow and thin with age. Carefully, the paper cracking, he unrolled the former, breath cought in his chest at the words, printed dead center:

this time how about we dont fuck this up

Suspecting that he had slipped into some sort of fugue state, Daevid perused the second letter, and found it similar, but more enraging than terrifying.

I did tell you not to open it early, Daevid. We reap what we sow.

The walk home was a blur. Daevid had the vague recollection afterward of tripping, stumbling through thorns and briars, sharp points tearing at his face, his clothes as his feet found purchase in mud, slipping over slick earth and the forest's carpet of fallen leaves. It wasn't until he was falling over his own sword, propped against a friendly beech tree, going knees-first into the dirt, that he came to, and then he swore, hoping that Jadite hadn't gone to retrieve Jawwhn yet. Only one buckfanged troll emerged from her tent, which was promising as she bustled over to pat his shoulder and help him up, concern evident.

"Daevid--"

"Fine," he nearly barked, cutting her off, and then Jawwhn was pushing the tent flap open in return, his blue-gold eyes wide and shaken as well.

"You okay there, bro?" he asked, and Daevid nodded as he pushed his way past.

"Fine," he repeated, and had the presence of mind to shove Jawwhn's gift at him before retreating fully. "Happy Wriggling Day, bulgeknot." Jawwhn looked stunned, and the last thing he saw of either of them before entering his tent and shutting himself away was a look exchanged, worry naked and exposed. Kneeling on his bed roll, Daevid tossed the first note out of his sylladex, spilling his travel bag out over the ground and sifting through it, claws picking at leather thongs and stone knives, flint stones for fire lighting and whetstones for keeping his weapons keen, the remnants of a hard, hardscrabble life. At last he found what he sought: the same paper, the same handwriting, the same mocking red ink, and alone in his tent, he allowed himself to tremble.

remember me

\---

The stars were up, the moon round and yellow and full. Jawwhn was seated by the fire, Jadite across from him, a wide smile splitting her face; his own was smeared with beast gristle and flecks of a delicious cream of mushroom sauce that his meal had been slathered in. A third bowl, full, sat waiting for Daevid to emerge, but after hours of ignoring their pleas for him to come out and join them, both had given up much hope.

"Come on, open it!" Jadite prompted him with a wave of her hands, excited. "I want to see. What did she get you?"

Jawwhn laughed, tugging at the cerulean ribbon. "Hold your hoofbeasts, I'm working on it!"

"It's from a highblood, so it'll be good," she pronounced, confident. "And Rosace is pretty fond of you. I'm sure you'll love it, but we won't know until you open the thing!"

Heaving a faked sigh, Jawwhn pulled at the paper, which gave a satisfying tear under his claws. "If you insist," he told her, lifting off the lid and staring curiously at the contents. "There's no note. Just... CDs?"

"Oooh, a game, maybe!" Jadite exclaimed, eyes sparkling. "That calls for cake. You want a slice?"

"Did you make it?" Jawwhn asked, dubious. "I mean... I don't want to offend, but I can't stand it, really."

Jadite shrugged. "More for me! And Daevid, if he ever-- oh." Her head turned, and Jawwhn followed her gaze to where Daevid was emerging from his tent, placid and emotionless as ever. "Well, look who decided to show up after all!"

"Yeah, late to the party, whatever," Daevid remarked, unusually subdued as he took a seat between them, shades pointed towards the fire. "What's this about cake, Harley? Don't hold out on us, now."

She rolled her eyes affectionately, but her smile was clear and true as she cut him a large slice and passed it over. "Your dinner's there too, if you want. It's good, right, Jawwhn?"

Jawwhn smacked his lips enthusiastically, giving them both a grin. "Like ambrosia."

"Well if _Egbert_ says so, I guess it's safe for consumption. Not like I've seen him eat a three day-old quackbeast raw or anything."

Jadite laughed, Jawwhn sniggered, and amiable silence reigned, save for the crackle of the fire as it spat embers upward and the wind through the trees. The sky was clear above them, and when Jawwhn looked up, he could see trails of flame blazing across the sky. "Look up," he breathed, enraptured.

Daevid was unimpressed. "Yeah, meteor shower. They happen all the time out here in the sticks."

Jadite huffed at him. "It's pretty, though. Why don't you make a wish, Jawwhn?"

He considered it a moment, the smell of woodsmoke all around, solid dirt beneath his feet. He felt more real, more alive than he had in sweeps. "I think I wish for--"

"Don't _tell_ us, silly! Then it won't come true."

Jawwhn looked down at the box, tossed aside, and then back up at Jadite, standing at Daevid's side, her hand at his shoulder, his hand casually set atop hers. Alone in his thoughts, he had never felt more singular, lost, broken.

Clutching the disk labelled SGRUB to his chest, Jawwhn Egbert wished with all his heart to become whole.

And the universe listened.


End file.
